Everybody Out of the Water
by Ellie Lynne
Summary: Cameron requests time off to help with Disaster Relief in New Orleans, but when plans change, she may need the relief from a disaster of her own - Gregory House! Based on true story, events that happened on my trip to New Orleans.
1. Now On Your Mark

Disclaimer: I no own [House M.D., you no sue.

Pairing: Hameron (House & Cameron)

Warning: May be slightly OOC, but I'm not David Shore.

(This is my first fan fic, please let me know what you think)

Chapter One

**_Now On Your Mark_**

"Oh, come ON!" Dr. Gregory House whined. "Why not send one of the other two little ducklings instead? They're like her older, overprotective, big brothers. And they're _far_ more interested in traveling than I am."

Lisa Cuddy laid back in her desk chair and folded her arms. "Think of it as a vacation. You haven't taken one of those since the day you were hired."

"I can't leave. Who would visit the twins when they rarely come up for air?" asked House, motioning to her low, revealing blouse.

Cuddy frowned. "I'm sure I could survive a month or two without the wonderful comments that would lead anyone else to file a mountain of sexual harassment suits against you."

He pressed on. "Who would reign on high while I'm gone? You can't stick a crown on the village idiots and expect everything in the kingdom to be peachy keen," he said, leaning into his cane.

She half smiled. "I'll put Wilson in charge. Besides, I could use a vacation from you for awhile."

His attacks on the enemy were being shot down. "Who would water my plants and be there to TiVo General Hospital?"

Cuddy scolded him. "House. A) You have no plants, and if you did, I'm sure they'd stand a better chance of surviving in the Sahara Desert than in your apartment and B) TiVo was made to record shows to be enjoyed at your convenience. Oh, that reminds me, by the way, the financial board also turned down your suggestion on supplying Room 221 with the SOAP network."

House looked appalled and saddened. "Poor Mr. Jacobson…"

"Johnson," she corrected him.

"…Johnson."_Well, it started with the same letter_, he thought. "He has no family, no friends," House continued, pointing a finger at Cuddy, "and _you're_ depriving him of the only love of his life that he has left."

"You don't know anything about what he loves."

"Lucky is his favorite; he told me."

"He did not!" she protested.

"He also wishes you could do something about the pickles they keep putting on the Reubens in the cafeteria..."

"House, he said no such thing!"

"You don't know, you weren't there!" he retorted.

Cuddy threw her arms in the air. "I didn't have to be there! The man's been in a coma for _fifteen_ years! I highly doubt he woke up today and rolled over to tell you his preferences on soap opera character relationships!"

"Fine," he said, "I lied about the soap opera thing."

She sighed, somewhat relieved he dropped the subject. "Thank you."

He twirled his cane and watched it dance in the air. "But he's as serious as an AMI about the pickles!"

She sighed in frustration. "This is _asinine_! You're making up excuses to avoid an almost all expenses paid vacation!"

"It's hardly a vacation when it requires me to do anything other than sitting on my gorgeous rump, watching Lucky get lucky," he smirked.

She decided to go in for the kill. "What other obligations do you have here that you can't part with, aside from your reign of terror and scorched imaginary vegetation?"

_Crap_, he thought. _She's not going to let this go. _"Besides the patients that are dying to be seen by me? Well, someone would have to feed Steve while I'm gone. Would you like to feed the hand that bites?"

"Steve? Your rat died off six months ago, House," she said, rolling her eyes.

"He's a legend! Steve McQueen never died; he just left the cage."

Cuddy held up her hands in surrender. "No clinic duty for a week."

House put on his poker face. "A year."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "A month."

House grinned and tapped his cane to the floor. "Deal." It popped back up and he grabbed it out of mid-air and turned to leave.

"Starting tomorrow."

House grimaced. "Where's this vacation to anyway? Disneyland? The zoo? Your brothel? Or is the zoo your brothel?"

She took a deep breath and held it. _This is going to send him into a yelling frenzy_, she thought.

"The south."

His eyes narrowed. "I didn't know there was a need for thee world's most famous diagnostician and his trusty minion immunologist in the lower states filled with people who use toilets as lawn ornaments. Good thing Princeton has two ducklings, and a wombat. I'm sure Chase would be thrilled if you sent him. He's always aiming to go back _down under_."

"Dr. Cameron knows the details and your road trip starts at 11:59 tomorrow night. The trip is to New Orleans, Louisiana."

His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped so far Cuddy swore it would detach itself from the rest of his face.

"I don't know if anyone told you this, after you crawled out from under the rock you've been living under, but not even a week ago a giant hurricane destroyed everything down there! We can't go frolicking through the city like a bunch of tourists! Hurricane plus city tends to equal dead and floaty sick people. It does not end up in relaxation or anything close to your idea of a so-called vacation. No way, Dean Funbags! Make Chase go, he's been dying to ride Cameron's emotional roller-coaster again anyway…"

He was surprised at how horribly guilty he felt after saying that, let alone thinking about it. Jealousy was starting to attack him as he thought of Chase and Cameron, so he turned and headed for the door.

Cuddy thought for a moment. "What if I let you take the Freestar?"

House turned back around. "Have you been spending too much time on the psych floor? I think you're starting to catch something. You want me to drive a _family van_? What do I look like, a soccer mom? No way!"

Cuddy sighed loudly. "Then let Cameron drive and you can be the kid who sits in the back seat and acts obnoxious. It seems more appropriate anyway. I'll call for it to be detailed for you and you can pick it up on your way. You'll need to head for the American Red Cross in Illinois for the paperwork to get you past civilian territory. Just drive the Freestar down there and bring it back, in one piece, when you're done."

House laughed. A month away from Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman and, most of all, Chase. No clinic duty for a month. All expenses paid trip. With Cameron; it sounded better than he would ever admit.

Things were starting to look up for the poor, miserable old soul.

Just then, he glanced behind him as he heard the door squeak slightly. Turning around, he found Cameron looking back at him. She was surprised and a little uneasy to see him standing there, but she continued to cautiously enter the room and approaching her boss's boss. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, keeping her eyes focused on looking at Cuddy.

Cuddy smiled. "I was just filling in Dr. House on your leave of absence plans before he goes downstairs to finish his clinic duty for the week. And he's agreed to sign your paperwork."

Cameron sighed to herself in relief. "Um, thanks."

"Now," Cuddy continued, "Here are the keys to the Freestar. If you let him drive, please don't let him wreck it, it's the only vehicle we've got that's nice enough to take to non-hospital functions." She threw the keys to Cameron and gave her a weary look. She half smiled and went back to the stack of files on her desk.

Cameron stood in shock. "What? He's driving me to Illinois?"

Cuddy gave her a sympathetic look. "To Illinois, to New Orleans, and back. House is going with you."

Cameron's eyes went wide and her bottom jaw dropped a little. She looked at House in disbelief and then turned back to Cuddy, cursing herself for being unable to keep her shock hidden. "But…I-I don't think I have enough money for-"

"I understand. That's why the hospital has covered all of Dr. House's expenses to accompany you there and back," she assured her. Cuddy cleared her throat and turned to the tall, lanky man holding a flamed cane. "That is, Dr. House, unless you find yourself in the company of professional dancers, casinos and bars that are neither free or open. Then, you're on your own. I won't pay for your sinful pleasures. If you want food, gas, and lodging financially covered, bring back all of the receipts and we will reimburse you under the terms of a company trip."

House grinned at Cameron's horrified facial expression. "Well," he said, turning and heading for the door, "I better get going. Big day tomorrow. Places to see, patients to go…Cameron to harass…"

"It better be the other way around!" Cuddy yelled after him. She sighed. _Who am I trying to kid? It's always that way with him, why should I expect anything different?_

Turning to Cameron, she sighed softly, feeling guilty about doing this to her.

"I'm sorry, Allison, but I can't get him to take time off any other way. He's lonely, but he'll never admit it. He spent one vacation day since the day he was hired, and then he stayed home and watched the travel channel. He'll never cop to it, but he's beginning to burn out. Chase and Foreman wouldn't last any longer than five minutes around him, I can't stand him; he drives me up the wall with sexual comments, and Wilson…" she paused in thought, "Well, let's just say I think he's definitely the closest to House and I think he may need a much longer vacation than all of us."

"Yeah," Cameron replied. She knew how aggravating House could be, and she was amazed, herself, how Wilson continued to befriend him so closely.

"I was just hoping that he could vacation with you, get to know someone else besides Wilson and maybe not be such an egotistical, male chauvinistic, pessimistic, factious pain in my-" Cameron could tell Cuddy was on a tirade as the brutal words rolled fluently off of her tongue.

"I know," she said, cutting her off. "Okay, he can come, but I hope he knows what he's getting himself into." She shook her head, knowing that he was going to hate this.

"Thank you Allison, we all really appreciate it."

"Not a problem." She replied, forcing a smile. _Yet…_

Cameron turned and was ready to head out the door when Cuddy stopped her. "Here…" she said, still writing on a pad of paper. She tore them from the pad and handed them to her. "You'll need these."

She stared at the papers. They were prescriptions written out to her name. "Diazepam and Naproxen? I assume the Vicoden's for House, but Naproxen?"

Cuddy grinned. "That not for House. It's for you."

Cameron stared back at her, confused.

She laughed slightly. "Believe me, when he drives you up the wall, you'll need it to calm the migraines. Come to think of it, he's had some lately as well. You might want to offer him one once in awhile, but don't let him take advantage of them. I want him to be bearable, not unconscious."

Cameron chuckled. "I might appreciate the latter one more." She turned back to the doors.

"Take the rest of the day and tomorrow off to pack for the trip. I'll see you when you get back." Cuddy said as she stood up from behind her desk and walked around it toward Cameron. "Take care of him, okay? Be careful," she said as she hugged her tightly.

Cameron's eyes widened in surprise, but shrugged off Cuddy's emotional episode as just being emotional or it being her time of the month. She went along and hugged her back.

"Thanks, Lisa," she replied, smiling. It was then that she realized that her boss really cared for her and for the people who worked for her.

Neither one of them had seen House stick his head in the room. He cleared his throat. "Is this," he pointed to both of them, "going to turn into a sexy moment between you two?"

"House-" they groaned simultaneously, rolling their eyes.

"Ooh! The way you both said my name like that. Me likey! Can you at least wait until I grab my camera? I want to savor the moment so I can replay it over and over again later on. For when I'm at home, alone, bored in my deserted apartment," he said, grinning mischievously.

Cameron's blush was light pink, but getting redder by the second. She nodded at Cuddy and walked out the office to the locker room. House's grin remained while he watched her walk away and turned back to his boss. "So, is that why you wanted a sperm donor and not a boyfriend? I'd hate to-no, I take that back, I'd _love_ to burst your bubble...so...I have it on good authority to tell you that she likes me more."

_Here is comes_, he thought. _The yell of "clinic duty" should be thrown at me any second now._

With a half-smile on her face, Cuddy surprised them both by throwing her arms around House and pulling him into a friendly, emotion-filled hug.

House was taken so off guard, he had no time to dodge it, so instead, his eyes narrowed and his body stiffened as she squeezed him. Thinking fast, he built up his emotional wall again. "So, is this the punishment for everyone who assumes you have lesbian tendencies?"

Cuddy expected some type of comment like that from him; anything to keep anyone else from seeing the real him. "Only those who should be completing clinic duty."

"I think I'd rather be wiping snot-nosed three year olds and pulling random objects from embarrassing orifices than stand here and let you clench onto me like a stuffed animal. Not that I don't like being close to the twins, I just can't see them when you're this close."

She laughed. _Same old House_. She put a hand to the side of his face. "Promise me you'll take care of you and her, okay?"

He was completely freaked out by this emotional, soft, caring Cuddy that stood before him.

"Yes, mom!" he said, "I promise to wear my seat belt and everything! On a serious note, maybe you should concentrate on taking care of the disease we mentioned earlier that you're currently harboring. It's getting to you," he said, pointing his cane toward her brain as he turned around and left.

Cuddy sighed and walked back around to her desk, and picked up her phone.

"Hey."

"Hey, how did it go?" the voice on the other end asked.

"He took the bait. Mission complete."

"Now all we can do is let them duke it out themselves. If anything is to happen, it's got to happen on it's own."

"Well, not exactly. I...know some people. I could call around and see what they can do to help. Some of them owe me a favor or two."

"Ok. Well, keep me updated. I've got to go for now. We need to discuss some further details. Meet me at the Daily Grind Coffee Shop over on Main around noon tomorrow."

"Sounds good, I'll be there. See you then. Bye."

"Good-bye, Lisa."

A/N: AMI is the technical term for a heart attack. It stands for Acute Myocardial Infarction.


	2. Get Set: Part One

Chapter Two

**Get Set: Part Uno**

Cameron walked down the sterile corridor and into the locker room. Grabbing the duffel bag kept in her locker, she began to fill it with her soiled scrubs and the lab coats now caked in vomit and spittle from sick little kids. Now, she wished she could just stay in Princeton and deal with the germs and bodily fluids than go to New Orleans and be hassled by House.

Sighing, she grabbed some of her normal everyday toiletries, threw them in the bag and zipping it up. She shut her locker, hoisted the bag on her shoulder and pushed through the door.

'Well, this isn't fair!' an angered voice came up from behind her.

Startled, she turned around to find House leaning against the wall, behind the closing door.

"Jeez House! You scared the crap out of me!" she said, her hand on her chest.

"Clean up on aisle three!" He yelled loudly to no one in particular.

Turning back to Cameron, he continued. "We both prepare for the same trip, but Cuddy gave you permission to leave early and I'm stuck with running the three ring idiot circus this hospital refers to as the," House held his fingers up, making air quotes, "free clinic.'"

He limped toward her. 'I'll tell you what. You know how you've always dreamed of being with me? Well, for the next," he raised up his wrist and looked at his watch, "125 minutes, I'll let you be me! That's every Greg House Fan Club President's dream come true! No cane or narcotics included in that offer, but if you're a good little duckling, I'll throw in the name tag and the lab coat, if you promise not to faint on me."

Cameron stared at him, as a small smirk appeared on her face. "It's like winning the "Be-an-egotistical-miserable-lonely-jerk-of-a-diagnostician-for-a-day contest! Wow! How could anyone be able to resist an offer like that?" She bore a smirk of mock disappointment.

He fought to keep the edges of his mouth from turning upward. "You apparently! That's right! You couldn't resist it yesterday. And the day before, and two days before that." he said smugly.

"That wasn't an offer, it was an order. Thanks again for the "once-in-a-lifetime" opportunity, but no thanks."

She turned back around and walked to wards the conference room, smiling, leaving House deep in thought.

After a moment, he grinned at her retort and decided this trip was going to be very entertaining.

When Cameron entered the conference room, she found her other two colleges going about their usual daily routine when they had no case. No coffee was made, so she walked over to it and prepared it for another pot.

Dr. Eric Foreman was reading the latest articles in the New England Medicine Journal, while Dr. Robert Chase, with his amazing golden blond hair, sat at the table, concentrating on the daily crossword in the Princeton Packet.

"What's a thirteen letter word for "extremely cheap lawyer?"

Cameron grinned. "Stacy Warner."

Chase's eyebrows rose up in surprise as he considered it, he pointed to the squares and counted them slowly, seeing if it would fit. He frowned in frustration. "Nope. Too letters short. Dang it."

No one heard House enter his office. He had heard Stacy mentioned, and wanted to hear juicy information or anything he could blackmail someone with later on. He drew the blinds and hid himself, listening in on their conversation.

"Cameron, we know how you feel about Stacy, but what happened between her and House should remain between them. You can't fight his battles for him; and, I say this as your friend, you'll never be in a position where he'll let you defend him; it's all about the ego. You can despise her for things she's done to you, but hating her for what she did to House isn't your place. Actually, now that I think about it, I'm surprised. I didn't think Allison Cameron hated _anyone_," Foreman said, his eyes never leaving his article.

_Cameron hates Stacy? Is it jealousy? Can't say I blame her, I'd want to sleep with me too, _he thought smugly to himself.

"People hate Hitler for what he did to the Jews and _they're_ not being lectured by their co-workers," she replied, defensively. She poured the pot of water into the coffee maker and set the pot back down underneath to catch it in. "I have…other reasons."

_What reasons?_ he thought.

"Doesn't matter what they are, you're biased," Foreman shot back.

Cameron turned to look at him. "I'm sure if someone made a major life-changing decision like that, against your wishes, you'd be furious too! She thought she was helping him, that she knew what was best for him, but she was wrong, and completely selfish. She made that decision for herself. I know…we all know, that he didn't want to end up like this, and no one should ever have to."

House bowed his head. _She's right. It sucks to wake up in pain every morning._

Foreman glanced up at her. "But he has to live with it. He may not be able to run a marathon, but he's still alive. Besides," he shrugged, "he was the one dumb enough to make her his medical proxy."

House's head shot up as he parted the blinds, slightly, glaring angrily at Foreman. _Thanks, homey. What happened to keeping Cameron's nose out of my business?_

Cameron stared at him maliciously. "That's what people do when they love someone. They trust the other person to make important decisions like that. He couldn't have anticipated that she would screw him over. And now, he's suffering because she didn't like the decision he chose to make. So, being the wicked witch that she is, she chose for him, knowing it wasn't what he wanted. She betrayed him."

"She chose what she thought was best course of action," he countered. "If he didn't care about her, he wouldn't have given her the authority to have any say about it."

"I highly doubt he has the ability to love anyone..." Foreman muttered, more to himself, but still audible.

House gave Foreman the evil eye, even though he wouldn't never see it to back down from it.

"I'm sure he loved her, and still does in some ways, but she didn't love him back," she said, empathetically.

House nodded. He _did _love her. But he was so sure she loved him; she kept coming back to him.

Foreman looked at her in disbelief. "How can you say that? You don't know how Stacy was feeling."

"Good question," House whispered, quickly shutting his mouth to refrain from it being heard.

"Where is she?" she cried, the lump in her throat getting harder to swallow every second. "She left him to suffer, by himself, while she goes home to an extremely naïve husband who thinks she's freakin' Mother Teresa! Then she comes back, knowing he'll be there waiting for her when her marriage gets rocky, and she plays with House's emotions, heightening his hopes, and then drops him and runs back to Mark! He's nothing but an escape route for her bad marriage." She leaned against the counter and dropped, resting on her ankles. "No one will ever truly be able to fathom how miserable he really is." She sighed when she realized it, and said, "Not even me."

House was shocked. She pinpointed him perfectly_. How does she know all of this? _

"Cameron, he's miserable because he chooses to be."

He was back to giving Foreman the evil eye._ No I don't, I-_

"He's miserable because he's in **PAIN**!" she yelled.

Chase and Foreman both sat in shocked silence.

House did the same, standing behind the blinded glass wall of his office. He couldn't believe that she was sticking up for him after all the crap he's put her through.

Cameron stood back up and grabbed her purse from her chair, pulling her coat off of the back of it.

"Cameron," Chase said softly, "You have to let it go. You have to let him go. House is the way he is because he chooses to shut people out. What you're trying to do for him is like trying to defy gravity; it won't work. You can't change him, no matter how hard you want to."

"I don't want to change him. I want to be there for him."

House was confused. _She doesn't want to change me? How can she like me the way that I treat her?_

Chase put his puzzle down and walked over to her. "You've been there for him for the past three years and like an idiotic moron, he shuts you down. He keeps kicking you like a little puppy and like the wonderful, caring person you are, you run back and lick his leg because you're more worried about how his leg feels from kicking you." Chase put his hand on her arm.

"You don't need him, Allison."

House raised an eyebrow. _Allison? What happened to "Dr. Cameron"?_

"Chase, I know, but-."

"Then why do you want someone so badly that doesn't want you?" he asked, eyes narrowed in confusion.

Cameron looked, sadly, down at the floor. "Because I care about him."

Chase slid his hand gently under her chin, raising her head so he could see her eyes. "You care about me, don't you?"

Foreman cleared his throat and looked back to his magazine.

Cameron could swear that Chase was going to kiss her.

House, quietly watching from the other room, was quickly overwhelmed by a mix of angry and jealous feelings. _He shouldn't be touching her. If she was mine, I'd-_

It was just then that he realized how badly the truth of reality could hurt, and how much he truly cared for her.

Chase leaned in to allow his lips to meet Cameron's.

_Don't even think about you, you british twit!_

She turned her head at the last second. "No, Chase, I can't do this. I don't love you."

House watched intently as she shot Chase down and walked past him, heading for the door.

"Allie, wait!"

Turning back around, she gave him a sympathetic smile. "Why do you want someone who doesn't want you back?"

He froze as the words he just told her came back to bite him twice as hard.

"Get over me, Chase. And don't call me Allie."

She opened the glass door and headed for the parking lot.

Chase was dumbfounded. He quietly walked back to the table and picked up his puzzle again.

"Well, that was...entertaining," said Foreman, smirking at Chase's defeat.

He ignored him and refocused his attention to the unknown word.

"Cheap lawyer...cheap lawyer," he chanted, the wheels in his head turning.

A small curve appeared on the edge of House's lips and then disappeared as he resumed his poker face. He opened his door and stared at Chase, waiting for him to look up. When he didn't, he decided to speak first.

"Cheap lawyer. Well, that's the world's biggest oxymoron! That is, if you're paying her for not getting sued. All other services, depend on their own personal rating system. I'm not sure what the going rate is, though. Ask her yourself." He threw a business card at Chase. "I don't want her anymore."

Foreman looked over his open magazine, nonchalantly. "Nickel Defense."

Chase checked the number of squares and nodded, writing it down.

"Six-letter word for ignorantly persistent?" he said, squinting at the clue to make sure he read it right.

House gave Chase the third degree before walking toward the elevator.

"Wombat."


	3. Get Set: Part Two

Chapter Three

_**Get Set: Part Dos**_

Cameron walked toward her car, her heels clicking as she made her way across the parking lot. Approaching it, she stopped outside the driver's side door, fishing around the inside of her purse for her keys. When she finally found them, she unlocked the door and crawled inside. She kept her eyes on the door as she closed it and retrieved the shoulder strap of her seatbelt.  
Pulling it across her, she turned to meet it with the buckle-"

"Always putting safety first, huh?" a familiar male voice smirked.

Cameron jumped and gasped as she came face to face with House who continued to grin evilly as he sat patiently in the passenger seat, his hands resting atop of his new flamed cane which stood between his legs.

"Are you just as precautious in the sack?"

"How did you get into my car? And before I did?" she demanded, ignoring his last comment.

"I lifted the handle and pulled on the door…and wouldn't you know it, it opened! I'm a miracle worker," he quipped. "Seriously, it takes less time to use the elevator than it does the stairs."

Cameron glared at him. "You know what I meant! How did you get past the security system?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," he replied as a matter of a factly.

She was not amused. "House!"

"I bypassed the alarm and disconnected it," he stated, proudly. "Next time, don't buy a crappy aftermarket security system and have a four year old install it for you. Someday, you might find some strange person sitting in your car, waiting for you." He said, completely straight-faced.

Cameron couldn't help but slightly laugh at that. "And I thought Foreman was the god of breaking and entering. Does this make you my stalker?"House thought for a moment. "Nope, but I can understand where you'd think it really does take one to recognize one."

She looked confused. "So…what? You want me to take you home?"

House nodded.

Cameron sighed. "Shouldn't you be in the clinic pretending to be you? And didn't Wilson bring you to work this morning? Why can't you wait for him?"

"I don't want to be here any longer than I really have to," he whined. "Besides, Wilson's staying late with his dying cancer kids paperwork."

She stared at him as if he were crazy.

"Come on…on the way, you can tell me about our upcoming 'deep city diving' trip." He motioned for her to start the car and drive._This is going to be a long night_, she told herself.

Neither one of them really said much while she drove. The silence between them was so thick you'd need a machete to slice through it. Cameron nervously turned on the radio.

Her car was quickly filled with the sounds of Fergie's 'Clumsy'. House winced.

As much as he hated listening to it, he tried to hold out on complaining about its annoying repetitiveness. _Anything to avoid talking about feelings_, he thought.

Halfway through the song, after about a minute and a half, he looked at her in disgust and turned off the radio.

"Ok, I get it. She 'just can't help it," he said, agitated. "Let's talk. Tell me what your plans are in Atlantis."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "I highly doubt it's still underwater. It's been a week."

"Whatever. Why are you going down there? The whole city's going to be full of little airborne flecks of rotting dead people. They'll be bloated bodies floating around our raft and innocent animals washing up in the tide. How are _you_ going to handle _that _compared to life as you know it in Care Bear Land?"

She looked at him in disbelief. "Care Bear Land? Do you mean to tell me that you think my mind is filled with the notion that this life is all sugar, spice, and everything nice?"

He gave her a look that just screamed, "Duh!"

She laughed. "Wow. You're delusional!"

"Do _you _mean to tell me that _you're_ not?" he asked.

"My perspective on life is not like a little girl's fairytale. I'm more damaged than you'll ever know."

He realized that he was treading pretty close to an emotional line that he knew he didn't want to cross, and immediately changed the subject.  
"Do you own anything that we could listen to that doesn't make me feel like going on a Tommy Vercetti shooting spree?" he asked, looking at her almost pleadingly.

She grinned. _He plays Vice City_, she thought. _That's interesting._

"There's some CD's in the glove box if you want to flip through them."

"Is that where you keep the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync?" he said, suspiciously.

Cameron couldn't help but chuckle at that. "That's what you think of me? A pre-teen who sits in her room and makes out with the posters on her wall?"

House shrugged."Wow, House," she said, sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You've really got me pegged!"

"You can't deny it, I've seen the inside of your locker. Pictures of the world's sexiest diagnostician; plastered in there as far as the eye can see."

She snorted. "A little full of yourself, aren't you?"

"The weather's a little gloomy up on here on my pedestal," he smirked.

He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a black and silver CD case. He was surprised to see a long black dragon etched into the cover, and even more surprised to see the contents inside.He slowly paged through them.

_Anberlin, Bach, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Beethoven, CCR, Chopin…_

Most of these bands were ones he listened to. Much of it was way before her time. He's heard of about 3/4ths of them. Flipping through them, he found himself more and more amazed. They were all awesome bands, and all of the discs were organized alphabetically. He had surely expected some childish, girly bands in there, somewhere. However, all he found was everything from classical and Celtic music to classic rock and some comedy.

"These _can't_ be yours. Are you sure you didn't stalk me and break into my apartment to swipe my music collection?" he joked.

"What, so my music taste should reflect your opinion of me, therefore, I stole all of those CD's? Sorry to disappoint your need for a Nick Carter fix" she quipped.

Cameron pulled into the parking lot of the closest Wal-Mart Super center and slowed to a stop in a space located right next to the Handicap Parking.

"I know how you, being one of the female species, would think people are here so often that they live here, but this is not my domain." He said, looking up to find them surrounded by other vehicles."My place is that way," he said, pointing out the back window with his cane. "I'm sure you've sat outside my building enough times to know where it is. In fact, you've been there before, so why are we here?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "First of all, I don't pine away for you like you think I do. Secondly, I need to grab some stuff while we're here, so get out of my car."

"What," he practically yelled, banging his cane into the dash. "I'm not going in! Why don't you just take me home?"

"Believe me, I would have if Wal-Mart hadn't been on the way," she huffed. "If you want, you can stay in the car, so long as you don't touch or bypass anything else."

"Fine," he pouted, resuming to skim the titles of greatness that were in his presence. She grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car, mumbling something as the door closed.He grinned at her frustration, and then inhaled sharply as he stumbled across the latter section of the case.

_Pink Floyd…Queen…The Rolling Stones…Sty-_ He began to flip the page, but flipped it back quickly. "Hold up!" He said to himself, staring at the discs in front of him.

There was a whole page dedicated to The Stones-one of them was even autographed by Mick Jagger himself! _Am I hallucinating?_ He thought, pinching himself. _**Cameron**_ _likes the Stones? Nah, they've got to belong to a friend or someone she knows. _

He finished searching through the bands and waited for Cameron to come back.

After five minutes, he was getting anxious and frustrated. _Where the heck is she?_

Another five minutes later, his patience ran out and he stumbled out of the car, limping up to the store.As the automatic doors opened, a friendly, young face greeted him.

"Welcome to Wal-Mart. Would you like a motorized cart today?"

He scowled at her, hating it when people tried to make his handicap seem less hideous. "No," he barked, "I don't want a-"

He stopped himself as another interesting idea came to him. He turned back to the terrified greeter and softened his tone a little bit.

"On second thought, my leg has been bothering me a little more than usual," he said, not completely lying. The greeter nodded and unplugged one of the carts from the outlet in the wall. She turned it on and wheeled it over to him.

"Here you go, Sir."

House climbed into it and set his cane in the basket connected to the front.

"Don't hesitate to let us know if there's anything else we-" she started to say, but he wasn't listening as he sped off and away from her. He wheeled down the main aisle as he searched all of the ones on the side, looking for his little duckling.

_Water aisle, soup aisle, pasta aisle…_

He then quietly made his way to the liquor aisle. He was about to turn to grab a bottle of scotch off of the bottom, when he noticed a shapely brunette leaning over to grab a bottle of wine. Then he saw that she had the same looking bag as Cameron.

_Crap!_ He screamed inside. _It_ _is Cameron!_

Carefully maneuvering the cart, he barely made a wide turn and raced off to the Electronic Department. Glancing back, he sighed in relief; his cover hadn't been blown.

Now for the final mission: Embarrass Cameron.

He pulled out his cell phone called the Wal-Mart Pharmacy.

"Hi, this is Doctor Gregory House from Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I'm calling in a prescription for Dr. Allison Cameron."

The spoke for a few moments until the pharmacist spoke up.

"Ok, we'll have that ready for you in about ten minutes," he said.

House grinned. "Thanks."

He closed his cell phone and wheeled around the CDs, searching for any new music he could illegally download later. After the ten minute mark, he rolled behind a end cap and cautiously watched the cashier for a couple of moments, pretending to be deeply interested in the newest camera phones that were being displayed.

House watched as the pimply teenaged kid picked up the phone; memorizing the buttons that were pushed. Suddenly, his strained, tone changing voice could be heard on the P.A. system.

"Customer Service is needed-"he started.

_Dang it!_ He thought, frowning. _Now workers will crowd the phone_.

"…at the paint counter, please. Customer Service is needed at the Paint counter.

"_Phew_! He thought. That was really going to put a damper on his devious plot.

The young cashier grabbed a scanner and left the department.

Scoping out the rest of the department, House found it to be completely desolate. He wheeled over to the counter, inconspicuously, and picked up the phone, pushing the same buttons he had watched the cashier previously do only seconds before.

"_Attention Wal-Mart Customers-"_ his voice roared.

On the other side of the store, Cameron heard the familiar voice paging over the intercom. _Oh, no!_ She thought. _I thought he was going to stay in the car!  
_  
"_This is a customer page for Dr. Allison Cameron-"_ Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide in surprise. _This isn't going to be good_, she thought, dreading his next words.

_"Your prescription is ready to be picked up at the pharmacy counter. I repeat, Dr. Allison Cameron, your __**Valtrex**__ prescription is ready to be picked up at your convenience. "_

House hung up the phone and sat back in his cart, making his way to the front of the store, carefully avoiding the pharmacy.

Cameron stood horrified.

Somewhere nearby, she heard the sound of glass breaking. After a moment, she glanced down at her feet, realizing that the broken glass was lying underneath her. It used to belong to the bottle of wine she had been holding.

A different voice emerged from the speakers this time. _"I need an associate in maintenance to the liquor aisle please..." _

House grinned. _Maintenance? Cleanup crew. It had to have been a part of Cameron's reaction. _He wheeled over to an empty aisle and picked up another phone, once again, repeating the steps to page.

Cameron prayed that the intercom would short circuit and die, but she was sorely disappointed when _his_ voice returned.

"_Will the owner of the Jeep Wrangler parked in Row 7, with the license plate that reads 'AUSSIE2', please return to your vehicle. You left your vehicle running and it ran into my shopping cane…"_

House hung up the phone, bolted back to the entrance, walked out the door and limped toward the car, anxiously awaiting Cameron's return.

Cameron's eyes went wide. _Oh, no! Chase is here too?!?_

_Great_, she thought, sighing heavily, trying to comprehend everything that just happened. With her anger building, she swallowed her embarrassment and walked to the pharmacy, hoping that she wouldn't run into Chase.


	4. Get Set: Part Three

Chapter Four

**_Get Set: Part Three_**

Her stomach flipped when she approached the department. It was packed with people who had just dropped off their prescriptions and were now waiting on them to be filled-and one of them was Chase! He calmly walked up to her.

"Hey, Cameron, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, nervously.

She sighed. "About what?"

His eyes darted to the floor in embarrassment. "Well, you…and I…we," he stuttered.

"What, Chase?" she demanded, even though she had a pretty good idea what he was going to say.

"Do I need to get…you know, checked out?"

Cameron's eyes grew wide and she sighed, blushing profusely. "Chase, I don't have anything. It's all a misunderstanding."

He nodded, but he wasn't entirely convinced. He stood next to her in line, while she worked her way forward. After finally making it to the counter, she looked at the pharmacist, uneasily.

"Name please?" he asked.

"Um…Allison Cameron," she replied, quietly. The pharmacist looked shocked and Cameron could hear some women gossiping behind her.

"You know, Dr. Cameron," he said, "I checked with the other techs, and none of us paged you. We would never disclose such personal information about our customers, and especially not over the P.A. system."

She nodded. "I know."

"Well," he said, nervously, "Do you still need it filled?"

Cameron's surprised look flashed back onto her face. "Excuse me?"

He looked confused. "The pills. Do you still need them or do you want us to cancel it?"

"You mean, there really _was_ a prescription called in for it?" she asked, astounded.

"Yeah," he said, showing her the prescription pad. "Called in by a…Dr. Gregory House," he read. "Is he your current physician?"

Chase nodded in understanding, but then wondered if maybe House had something and gave it to Cameron. _No, not **his** Cameron, _he thought._ She wouldn't-_ he paused his thoughts, realizing that Cameron had been after House before, and House was the type of guy who _would _do something like that; corrupting someone so innocent and perfect like her.

Cameron dropped her head and to everyone's amazement, she started to laugh until she cried. People stared at her in puzzlement and the pharmacist was concerned. "Are you ok, Dr. Cameron?"

She ran her hands down her face and nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry. I won't need that prescription. It was a misunderstanding," she explained, "However, I'll be taking the other two prescriptions instead. One should be Naproxen and the other one Vicodin." The pharmacist nodded and walked off to retrieve them.

Chase looked at her in surprise. "Since when do you take Vicodin or Naproxen?"

Cameron scolded him for being so dumb. "It's for House. I've just been volunteered to fill it. I locked him in the car," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Chase's eyes shot up. "_He's_ in your _car_? What did your car do to you to deserved _that_?"

"He needed a ride home, I just stopped in to get a few things."

The pharmacy tech returned with a couple of prescription packaged in his hand. He looked at her and smiled, a little concern showing through. "Is the Vicoden for you? Because to be honest, I think you could benefit from a mild sedative; you look worn out."

She laughed. "No, they're for Dr. House. I'm picking them up for him."

He shook his head in approval. "That's fine, however, I'll need Dr. Lisa Cuddy or another licensed physician to fax over a release form. Would you like me to call them for you?"

"No, that's ok," she said as an idea struck her. "I'll give them a ring."

She excused herself from the line and called the hospital.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital! How can I help you?" a cheery voice exclaimed.

"Hi Brenda, it's Dr. Cameron. Wow, you sound…chipper today."

"Thank you, Dr. Cameron," she said smiling. "It's mostly because the clinic isn't being invaded by Dr. He-Who's-Name-We-Dare-Not-Speak."

Cameron chuckled. "You can thank me later," she said. "Is Dr. Cuddy in?"

"Actually, she's left for the day. Can I take a message for her?"

She frowned. "Well, is Dr. Wilson available?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. Let me page him and find out for you."

Brenda put Cameron on hold.

A moment later, the cheesy elevator music died as someone answered.

"Hello. This is Dr. Wilson."

Cameron perked up. "Hey Wilson, it's Cameron."

Wilson sat down into the chair behind his desk, smiling. "Cameron. You just caught me; I was on my way out the door, actually. What can I do for you?"

"Can you call in a prescription for me?"

Chase, who had been listening to her, looked at her in curiousity.

Wilson looked down at his desk. "Well, you know policy requires for you to be examined first, otherwise, I can't really do anything without it being properly diagnosed. Have you been seen for it?"

Cameron hesitated. "Actually, it's for House."

Wilson sighed. "Is he out of Vicoden already? I _told_ him to cut down or he'd be out before he even left for vacation."

She grinned. "No, it's not for Vicoden, I have that right here."

He wrinkled his forehead. "_You_ have his Vicoden? He doesn't even let me touch the bottle once it's been filled. How'd you get it?"

She proceeded to fill him in on House's devious plot against her, followed by her equally revengeful plot against him. Chase broke into hysterics. Wilson smiled and it only grew bigger as she continued laying out the details.

"Well," Wilson beamed, "I give you my blessing, and my permission to fill it. I'll call it in."

Cameron thanked Wilson and closed her phone, smiling. She said "goodbye" to Chase and walked out of the store, heading for the car. Two heavy bags of groceries hung from each hand; one containing three filled prescription packages.

Approaching the car, she popped the trunk open and laid the bags carefully inside. House grinned as he felt her slam the lid closed. Before she opened the door, he replaced the pleased look on his face with one of pure innocence. Cameron got into the car and glared at him maliciously.

"So, I saw Chase in the pharmacy. He asked me if he needed to get tested!"

House bit his tongue to keep himself from smiling. "For what? Rabies? No, we don't need to prove it, it's so plausible it's practically been confirmed. You should, though, come to think of it. Rabies is transmitted through saliva." He shuddered at the thought that haunted his mind- Cameron, Chase, and ways to share bodily fluids. Heaving soon followed. "Nevermind! No more talk of Wombat mating rituals."

"I _thought_ I _told_ _you_ to _stay_ in the _car!_"

He shrugged. "As usual, Cameron, I haven't the faintest idea what you're babbling your pretty little head on about. It was boring waiting in here. You know, the CD player only works when there's a key sitting in the ignition switch."

She sighed and threw a prescription package at him. He lifted it from his lap and ripped open the bag, twisting the lid off and popping a few pills onto his tongue.

"You know," she said, still annoyed that he would bring up her meth-induced romp with Chase, "I bet you don't need_ those_."

"Pfft! What do you know about it?" he said, sharply as he dry swallowed them.

"Well, nothing, really..." she started to say, but let her voice trail off. _...But Stacy might_, she thought to herself.

As soon as they slid down his throat, he noticed they tasted a little differently. _Oh no, what did she do? Those didn't taste like Vicoden chalkiness. If it's not Vicoden, then what did she just give me? _He looked down at the bottle in his hands and read the label plastered on the front.

_Dr. Gregory House, M.D. _It listed his address, the instructions for taking the medicine, and finally, as he was skimming it, his jaw dropped in horror as he read the word that would change his whole night around, and Cameron's image of him.

_**Sildenafil.**_

He turned to see Cameron watching him with an amused raised eyebrow. "You _didn't!_" he said, still in awe that Cameron would do such a thing.

She fought to hold back her laughter, not sure if she would get fired for this prank. "I _might _have..."

He was amazed. She got him back, and deep down inside, he was proud of her. She hit him where it hurt. She attacked his greatest weakness-his ego. No words came to him enough for him to form a sentence, but one word came out finally.

"Why?"

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the convulsions she had from laughing.

"I just didn't want Paula to be disappointed anymore," she quipped.

House felt like his throat was closing up on him. _She knows the name of the hooker I use? How does she know that?_

"You drugged me with Viagra?!" he shouted.

She shook her head. "You drugged yourself; I watched you take them!" She paused. "How many _did_ you take?"

"Two!" he shouted. "I always take two Vicodin. I'm sure it was one of the questions you had to answer, conveniently listed on the _H__ow to_ _stalk your boss_ application form!"

"What's the dosage per pill?" she asked, starting to feel guilty."How should I know? You're the evil genius behind this scheme!"  
He searched the label and almost choked on his own saliva.

"50 mg! I just took 100 milligrams; it's recommended you chop one in half and your soldier's at attention for, I don't know, hours!"

She raised an eyebrow and continued to smile. "Who knows, maybe now, she'll pay _you!_"

"I doubt it, although, I've never had a problem like that before!" He looked at her, his eyes clearly showing a damaged ego and a hint of something that she couldn't place her finger on. Amusement, maybe? "Take me home, witch!"

Worried that she might have gone too far, but still entertained, she turned and started the car. Pulling out of the parking lot, she merged back onto the highway. They sat awkwardly in a deep silence again.

He picked up her CD's again and pulled out _Forty Licks, _popping it into her CD player.She was about to smack his hand away, but reconsidered, after reminding herself what she had just put him through.He scanned the CD, finally settling on _Hey, you! Get off of my Cloud_.

As they drove on, and the song had almost reached the end, he found himself wanting to strangle _and _kiss her at the same time. He struggled to keep from laughing and decided to watch her drive.

After racking his brain, he looked out his window and muttered something that sounded, to Cameron, a lot like _"_Youwereright_."_

"What?" she asked, not sure if she heard him.

"I said, you're absolutely right."

Cameron looked at him suspiciously. _He never tells anyone they're right! There's got to be a catch somewhere..._

_"_About what?"

As they pulled up to his apartment, 221B, he turned and leaned toward her until his mouth was almost against her ear. As he spoke, the warmth of his breath hit her, sending goose bumps up and down her whole body.

"I didn't _need_ those pills."

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly at the softness in his voice. He smugly pulled back, winking at her, and opened the door, climbing out of the car.

"You didn't have to do something so drastic. If you really wanted to know, all you had to do was ask, Cameron," he smirked, closing the door.

She sat there, speechless, and then broke into laughter as he limped into his building.

If you watched carefully, you could see a slight waddle in his limp.


	5. Let's Go: Part One: The Night Before

Chapter Five

_**Let's Go!**_

Cameron was startled awake by the piercing loud sound of her cell phone. She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It screamed 3:29 in bright red numbers. She moaned in frustration. She threw an arm over the edge of the bed, grabbing her cell phone from its charger. They caller ID read _Sarcastic Cripple_. She repeated her moan, extending it.

She answered, as much as she didn't want to. "Cameron!"

"No, _you're_ Cameron," he said, patronizingly. "People can always tell because my legs don't look as good in skirts."

She huffed into the phone. "House, it's 3:30 in the morning! What do you want?" she snapped.

He was silent for a moment. "We have a patient."

She shook her head, trying to wake up her brain. "No, _you_ may have a patient, but _I_ don't. I'm on vacation."

"Just because you're not _forced_ into helping, doesn't mean you can't help. Where's your _compassion_, Cameron bear?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

She was getting angry at the idea of _him _calling _her_ uncompassionate. "It doesn't kick in until I've had my morning cup of coffee."

"Then brew away, Mrs. Folgers," he said simply.

She let out a groan and stood up from her bed. "Fine. Hang on," she snapped, shuffling into the kitchen. She pushed the override alarm button on the coffee maker and it kicked on, coffee pouring into the pot.

A minute passed. "Are you done yet?" he asked.

No answer.

"Cameron?" he tried again. Still no answer.

_I wonder if she's trying to ignore me, _he wondered. _Or maybe she fell asleep. _"If you don't answer me, I'll break into your apartment and raid your panties. I hope for your sake you have no granny panties in there, or you'll never hear the end of it."

Still no answer. Starting to get concerned, he yelled this time.

"Allison!"

A couple of seconds later, the phone line went dead. He stared at his phone. _Call_ _Ended_, it read. He redialed.

Cameron answered on the second ring.

"Why did you hang up on me?" he demanded, more confused than angry.

"I didn't," she replied. "The call was dropped."

"Oh," he said.

"But I did overhear top secret information about the ambush on my underwear drawer," she told him, laughing to herself.

"Now that you know my secrets, I'm going to have to kill you."

"Ok, so, back to the case," she said, detouring him from asking any more questions about her choice in undergarments.

"Differential diagnosis," he replied.

"Who's the patient?"

"48 year old male, suffering from throbbing pain and stiff muscles."

"Any fever?"

"No, but voices complaints of having trouble sitting, walking, standing and moving."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Sounds like he pulled every muscle he had. Are the upper of lower muscles affected? Has he been putting himself through strenuous exercise lately?"

"Lower. Define _strenuous exercise_."

She thought for a moment. "Running, jogging, heavy lifting, playing sports, moving things, sex, things like that can cause a strain on muscles."

There was a thoughtful moment of silence between them. "Okay," he said, replaying her last back in his head. "No, no, no, no, no, and no, he doesn't have a bimbo."

Cameron contemplated his reply and reminded herself what the last one was. "Is he on any medications?"

"Pain relievers."

"Any of them causing related side effects?"

"Nope."

"Urination?"

"Painful and almost impossible."

"Enlarged prostate?" she asked.

"Most definitely," he replied.

Cameron's voice turned accusingly. "House, are _you _the patient?"

"I knew I hired you for another reason beyond pretty factor," he smirked.

She growled. "I'm hanging up now. Call back when you have a _real_ patient in _real_ pain!"

"Hey!" he cried. "I _am _in real pain! Leg pain in the first and third. You think after what you did to me that I'd just shrug it off and let bygones be bygones?"

"No," she said, "I'd hoped you would suffer and wallow in the guilt of embarrassing me and ruining my reputation around the people I see every so often. But I knew you wouldn't, so I made sure to enjoy the taste of sweet victory while it lasted."

"It wasn't victory. You won a battle, not the war. I may be your boss at work, but did you ever think this might impact other aspects of your life besides your professional one? You stoop _this _low, to my level, and it becomes personal."

"You don't have a personal life, therefore, it's not personal. Goodnight, _Dr._ House."

She hung up.

He sighed. _Well, tomorrow's another day_, he thought.

He grabbed his cane and rose from the sofa, waddling to the kitchen cabinet, pulling down a glass and filling it with scotch.

_This out to do it_, he told himself, limping back to the sofa, downing the glass in five seconds.

Another bottle and two glasses later, he came to the conclusion that it wasn't helping.

**_

* * *

_**He grabbed his cell and made another phone call. 

"Hi. Dr. Gregory House…Yes, the usual…Charge it...Thanks."

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, he found a beautiful brunette staring back at him, who looked a lot like a certain immunologist he knew. _Just what the doctor ordered,_ he thought.

"Greg House?"

He nodded. "Hi Polly."

She smiled. "It's Paula. Need a distraction?"

"You could call it that," he said, opening the door, allowing her to step inside.

She spun around to lean into him, her lips aiming for his, but as a surprise to them both, he raised his hand up, as if he were stopping traffic at an intersection, keeping her at a distance.

She stayed back and narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, softly.

He stared at her. "Insult me."

"You want me to _insult_ you?" Her confusion started to grow quickly into amusement, and she smiled.

"Well, if it was a dominatrix you wanted, I guess this might be your lucky night."

He shook his head. "I don't want to have sex with you," he explained.

Her smile quickly disappeared from her face and contorted into a sad whimpering pout. "I don't understand. Why did you call to have me come out here, then? Am I not pretty enough for you?"

He sighed. "It's not that." He stared at the floor. "I just need…company."

She nodded. "Ok," she said, "you know that's not what I get paid for, right?"

"It may not be what _you're_ used to, but it's what _I _get paid for when I go to work."

Her nose wrinkled. "I thought you were a doctor, not a lawyer."

He gave up trying to explain himself to her. "Look," he said, sternly. "I need to vent and I want you to argue with me. Put some _oomph_ into it! I will pay you overtime _and _I might out in a good word to your pimp, if you argue with me. I know it sounds stupid and I don't care; just do it," he instructed.

"But I need a subject to yell at you about," she said, unsure.

He popped an eye up. "What are you talking about? Women can argue over just about everything; who cares what it's about?"

"We do not!" she protested.

"Ooh!" House said, letting a half-smile barely escape. "Touché!"

He studied her for a moment. _Man_, he thought, _she looks a lot like Cameron. She even pouts like her. Oh, screw it! She's the one who made me like this._

He sat on the couch and poured another glass of scotch into a glass, quickly downing it.

"Ok, just don't physically hurt me." She crossed her arms, jumping into an angry subordinate position.

"Alright," he continued, "you work for me and you really care about a patient. He's got a headache. A monkey with a bottle of Motrin could cure him, but I think we need to drill a hole into his head and poke around in there with a stick. Go!"

"What are on earth makes you think you can do something so extreme?" she yelled.

He snorted. "I'm your boss. You do as I say. Contrary to what Cuddy tells you, I _am _a genius and this hospital wouldn't be able to function without me here."

"She could fire you!"

He shook his head. "I have tenure."

"She has authority."

"She has my reputation," he said, huffing.

"You seem like the type of guy who causes her to have to work to keep you in line," she said, somewhat amused.

"She has the Grand Tetons to keep me in line," he said, sarcastically, winking at her.

"They're not as big as mine!"

He laughed. "You're mad! In reality, it's like comparing an apartment to the Eiffel Tower!"

"It's just a headache," she insisted, directing the conversation back to the original topic.

"It could be something serious that hasn't fully developed yet," he said, being difficult.

"Give him the stupid narcotics and send him home so it _won't_ develop into anything worse," she said, gritting her teeth.

"He's a drug addict. We give him pain relievers and he'll just dope up somewhere else."

"_You're_ the drug addict!" she cried.

"You're pretty good at this," he confessed.

She laid into him. "You're nothing but a selfish, uncaring, sarcastic, lonely, damaged _cripple_!"

His eyes went wide at her last remark. "Wha-" he started, but was cut off by the angry female in front of him.

"I bet you're incapable of love! _I _bet when you were with Stacy, you only stayed with her to get laid! There was no love there; you don't know what it means to love!" She turned around, her back to him.

He was dumbstruck and suddenly he could sense the presence of bile in his throat.

"How do _you _know about Stacy?" he demanded. "Who _are_ you?"

He grabbed her arm and jerked her around to face him, and came eye-to-eye with beautiful green eyes that dug so deeply into him, he could feel them melting his cold, frozen heart.

"Please unclench, House," she replied, her tone icy and emotionless.

"Cameron?"

* * *

He was jolted awake by the gasping sound of his own voice. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was still lying on the couch.

He put his face in his hands and resumed his regular breathing pattern.

All the depressants in the world were useless against his _raging_ problem. He tried everything; dream sex, drugs, alcohol, thinking of his Great Aunt Ruth streaking through the Diagnostic Dept., but nothing worked. Finally, he broke down and called the last person on earth he would resort to-Lisa Cuddy.

"Hello?" moaned a sleepy voice on the other end.

Suddenly, he felt comfortable. He was so used to their sexual banter that they shared, it felt so normal that his nightmare washed away.

"Hey, there Cuddles! Why don't you throw on one of your 'boss uniforms' and stop on by."

"House? Leave me alone, I'm trying to sleep," she said, moving to hang up the phone.

"Cuddy! I need something from you."

She narrowed her eyes. "That's flattering, but I'm not a call girl and it's 4:00 in the morning. Aren't you on vacation?"

"If I was enjoying it, I wouldn't call you unless I was rubbing it in. Cameron drugged me," he confessed.

Cuddy broke out into laughter. "Yeah, right. Sweet, innocent Cameron drugged you! Yeah, and Teletubbies are taking over the world and killing people."

"It's true," he said.

"House, they're not real. They're midgets in little suits that-"

He huffed. "No, not the midgets! I'm talking about Cameron and her evil scheme."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Her angelic, innocent mind doesn't conjure up evil schemes. It's _Cameron_ we're talking about here. Besides, why would she want to drug you? She's, like, totally in love with you."

She clamped a hand over her mouth after she realized what information she just leaked. Mentally stuttering, she fumbled for a response to make it seem like a joke. "Did she slip you a Mickey and try to rape you?"

"Nothing so innocent. She slipped me Viagra."

Cuddy's eyes grew wide. "Say that one more time…"

Angrily he replied, "I'm not repeating it, you heard right the first time."

She was wide-awake now. "Cameron gave you Viagra so…what? Paula would _enjoy _it when you wasted money on her?"

"How does everyone know about my _hooker_? Nevermind, I don't want to talk about her."

She laughed. "Or did Cameron give them to you so that you could be accessible if she wanted to jump you?"

"Laugh it up, Chuckles," he said, sternly. "And while you're at it, write me a script for a muscle depressant."

Cuddy laughed hysterically. "No way, House."

"Come on! For the love of unknown almighty deities everywhere, I've been like this for _eight hours _and I can't sleep!"

She was laughing so hard, she was crying. Taking a deep breath, she fought to relieve her aching stomach. "Take a cold shower."

He rolled his eyes. "Took it."

"Scotch?"

"Drank it."

"Hooker?"

"Dreamt it," he said, sighing at his bad luck with that option.

"Call Cameron."

"What?" His eyes almost popped out of his head. _Can she read my mind? _He thought.

"She has some Valium she'd probably let you use, if you asked nicely. I can't give you anything."

"I'm not asking the _drugger_ for drugs! She'd probably slip me Midol!"

She continued laughing and hung up the phone.

_Fine_, he said to himself. _If I can't get it to go down, I'll make the pain and discomfort disappear._

He called Cameron back. She didn't answer. He hung up and tried her again. Still no answer.

He opened a new message on his phone and began typing. Pressing send, he sat back and waited for her reply.

Cameron moaned and opened the new test message that appeared on her phone.

To: _Cameron the Care Bear_

From: _Sarcastic Cripple_

_Can't sleep!!! ENORMOUS problem. Send pills or fix by hand!_

"Oh, the things I do for you, House," she said, smiling to herself.

She sighed, her guilty conscience catching up with her. Rolling out of bed, she threw on her long trench coat and grabbed her bottle of Valium. She locked the door and jumped into her car, speeding to save her boss from the death grip of his case of blue balls.


	6. Let’s Go: Part Two: Saint Cameron

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Danielle Lynne

Chapter Six

_**Let's Go Part II: Saint Cameron to the Rescue**_

Cameron stood in front of House's apartment with a fist raised, but not knocking, contemplating if how she should handle the situation. Before she could come to any conclusions, her decision was made for her as the front door flew open.

She gasped in shock as a haggard House's eyes bore into hers, his hair sticking out in every possible direction. He thought for sure that she'd break down into laughter, but instead her face showed concern and pity. The concern he appreciated, but the pity made him want to punch a wall. He stared at her angry and frustrated.

She started to say something, but nothing came out. Then, her eyes started to fall in shame, and it was then that she noticed how _big _his _problem_ was. Although she knew she shouldn't, she couldn't help but stare at it, wondering how a couple of pills could create such havoc. She could understand how he'd loose sleep over it.

He cleared his throat. "Are you going to stare at it all day or do something about it?"

Cameron's face turned red. "Here," she said, digging into her coat pocket and pulling out a prescription bottle, handing it to him.

He grabbed the bottle from her hand and stared at her, skeptically. Glancing down at the label, he turned and headed for his laptop, leaving the door wide open for her to come in.

_Dr. Allison Cameron, M.D. _

_Diazepam, 5mg_

_Take 1 tablet every 6 hours as needed._

_I wonder what she takes these for, _he thought, opening the bottle and examining the pills. He brought up the Google Search Engine on the screen. He typed in Diazepam, even though he was sure he had an idea of what Valium looked like, he wanted to search them carefully, just be safe.

He could throw her a heck of a lot farther than he trusted her, or anyone for that matter.

He brought the bottle to his mouth and threw it back, downing an unknown dosage. He brought it back down and turned back to see Cameron staring at him, appalled at his life-threatening action.

"House!" she yelled.

"You did this to me," he said, pointing a finger at her.

She looked at him in amazement. "What?"

He thought about it for a moment, recapping what he just said, and let his eyes grow a little bigger in realization. _Ok, bad choice of words_, he thought.

"You gave me the _wrong _drugs and you let me take them, knowing they would make me stiffer than a hooker in church!"

She gulped. "So, what now?"

He looked her up and down. "Are you wearing anything under that?"

She glared at him. "Yeah, pajamas. Do I even want to ask why?"

He shrugged. "That's your decision, not mine."

She sighed. "Ok, why?"

"Curiosity," he replied simply.

"You know what they said about the curious diagnostician…" she started, grinning.

House's face bore a mischievous questioning look. "He got laid?"

She returned his ornery grin. "His immunologist drugged and killed him."

He was surprised by her answer. "Wow. You're like my Narcotic Savior and Satan all rolled into one!"

She nodded. "I brought you pills and tore a huge, gaping whole in your ego," she said, smiling proudly. "My work here is done."

He shook his head. "That's where you're wrong, little evil one. Your reaction to my enormous _dilemma _is enough to keep my ego high enough to withstand at least a month's worth of Cuddy's comment killing insults."

She blushed.

"Are you an addict too?" he asked, jokingly.

She returned his joke with a wide-eyed look. "What? No!"

This conversation was going to turn real ugly, real fast if he jumped into it like he was doing. He frowned and turned serious. "Why do you take Valium?"

Her heart rate quickened and she began to panic inside. _Lie to him! Don't tell him the truth! Make something up, quick!_ She told herself.

"I've been having trouble sleeping at night," she said, surprised at how smoothly she put it.

His brows knit together. "What keeps you up at night? Chase's highlights? Chase's accent?" He gasped in mock shock. "Did you give Chase a drug-induced boner too? Or was his a natural occurrence?"

"Wow, House! All I hear you say is Chase this…Chase that…it's all about Chase. Either you're jealous, or there's some homosexual feelings lying underneath that bitter cripple exterior of yours."

"It must be the drugs talking," he grumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the floor. Goodnight."

He watched as she pulled the pillow from the couch and laid down on the hardwood surface, trying to get comfortable.

"You know, I _own_ a couch. You were sitting on it just 5 seconds ago."

She turned her head to him. "No way," she said shaking it side-to-side. "God only knows what you did on it to try to relieve the pressure…"

He broke into a half-grin and raised a brow sky high. "How do you know I didn't use the floor instead? You know, bad leg and all..."

She winced in disgust. "Good point. I don't. I should really go home." Sighing, she pulled herself up on her feet, but swayed, experiencing a little vertigo, but only from standing too fast.

He hooked the curved side of his cane around her arm to steady her. "Not a chance. You wouldn't make it out the door, let alone your apartment," he huffed in amusement.

Pulling on the cane, he forced her towards his direction and he took her hand, leading her to his bedroom. Her mouth opened in protest, but was silenced when she saw his bedroom. The last time she had been here, it was too dark to examine it, but now everything was in plain sight. 

Against the wall was a beautiful California king sized sleigh bed, dressed in a beautiful burgundy sheet set. _Wow, _Cameron thought, _for a miserable man, he sure has beautiful taste. Wait! Did I just say that? _

"The left side is mine," he told her, surprised at how possessive he was about it. He cleared his throat, nervously. "It makes getting out of bed easier," he explained.

"You want me to _sleep_ with you? In the _same_ bed?" She asked, still not sure what he was implying.

"Are we playing 'State the Obvious' again? I think you should forfeit; I'll win. Besides, I'd rather get some sleep like I've been trying to get for half the night," he said, stripping his flannel pants off to reveal a pair of thin black boxer shorts, just long enough to hide his infarction scar. He peeled down the top sheet and sat on the bed, looking at a petrified Cameron.

"I'm not going to bite you, use you, or consider this blackmail for any nurse station gossip for later on. This is going to be completely platonic naptime. Well, for you anyway, I have no choice in the matter," he snickered, nodding to his lap.

She slowly crept to the right side of the bed, pausing when he made any sudden movements like a skittish kitten. "I forgot my…the pillow."

He grabbed the pillow he regularly used and pushed it to her temporary side of the bed. Then he propped his legs up and lay down, placing his right arm behind his head. He got comfortable and closed his eyes.

Cameron watched him lie there peacefully. _Wow, _she breathed. _He almost looks innocent when he sleeps._ She took him in; his chest slowly rose and fell with each harmonious breath.

Soon, his breaths became softer and steadier. _He's asleep_, she told her self, relieved. She ran through her options and she shrugged, feeling that this was a lot like what she always wanted, just maybe in different circumstances.

She carefully crawled into bed, doing her best not to wake him. Lying there, facing him, she closed her eyes and took in the alluring scent of his pillow. Only one thought remained before sleep overtook her.

_Well, Cameron, you made your bed, and now, you have to lie in it._

She smiled.

_With Gregory House._

_House & Cameron_

House slept more soundly than he could ever remember. Well, now. His leg was throwing a severe temper tantrum, like no other. He winced at the pain and tried to sit up, when he felt something heavy against his chest. He peered down to find long, golden brown locks of hair, softly curled against his white T-shirt.

Somehow, during the night, he had wrapped his arm around her and she had snuggled deep into his chest. He let his head fall back and sighed in frustration. _Why now? Why does my stupid leg have to ruin my fun?_

He struggled to ignore the pain and focus his thoughts on Cameron instead. Then he realized that he didn't remember a whole lot about what happened last night. He remembered her coming over with some pills and then, everything after that seemed a little hazy.

_Oh, crap! Did we have sex last night?_ He looked back down and sighed in relief that they both still had clothes on. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. _Good! _He looked down at Cameron, as if he could read her thoughts._ If I ever do have sex with you, Allie, I __**better**__ be conscious for it!_

_I just called her Allie! I need to back off; I'm getting too close, _He growled, causing Cameron to stir. He mentally kicked himself from upsetting her sleep and tried to stay still until she calmed, but a louder groan escaped his lips as his leg cracked in another shot at him.

Cameron's eyes shot open, frightened by the cry he let out. After quickly reliving the happenings of last night, she sat up next to a horribly suffering man.

"House?" she asked.

He gritted his teeth. "I'm fine."

She glared at him. He was clearly _not _fine! "You're leg?"

His agony set off anger. He wasn't angry with her, just his leg.

"I said, I'm fine!" he snapped.

Cameron chalked his anger up to pain in disguise. She jumped up and ran into the living room, in search for his pain relievers. She found them on the table, sitting next to his laptop. She opened the bottle and poured two into her hand while sprinting back to the bedroom.

He held out his hand for the orange cylinder in her hand, but was even more relieved when her other hand slipped him two readied pills instead. He dry swallowed them, and returned his hands to rub his leg, as he watched her place the remaining pills on his side of the nightstand.

He looked into her concerned eyes and silently thanked her. She nodded, and walked into the bathroom, soaking a washcloth in water, as hot as she could stand it. He watched her return with it and gulped, instantly knowing of her intentions.

"No!" he shouted.

Cameron jumped slightly and sighed. "House, look, it's 6 in the morning and I'm dead tired. I'd like to go back to the most comfortable sleep I've had in God knows how long, so just shut up and let me try this, OK?"

"No!" he repeated, like a little kid being forced to eat Brussels sprouts.

"Please?" she pleaded.

"No!" he growled.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"I'll do your clinic hours for two weeks," she bargained.

"I'll make you do them anyway," he demanded.

"Not if I quit, you can't!" she threatened.

He was totally taken off guard by that.

"You'll _quit _if I don't let you cure my leg pain?" he asked, incredulously.

She nodded. "I can't cure it, but I can lesson it."

He looked scared, like a puppy backed into a corner.

"I know you don't want anyone to see it, House. If it'll help, you can leave the sheet over it; I don't have to see it to soothe it," she coaxed.

His brain couldn't believe what his ears were telling him. He wrinkled his forehead. "Are you serious? Do you get a kick out of nursing the injured back to health? Does it make you hot?"

She chuckled. "Only the mean-spirited, ungrateful devils like you."

He continued to protest as she moved closer.

"No, Cameron! I mean it! I'll kick you out of this bed!"

She laughed. "With what leg? The injured one, the supporting one, or the third one?"

He was getting angry about being helpless. "Cameron, I'm warning you! I'll-"

Cameron bypassed his boxers and placed the washcloth on his leg.

"Ahhhhhhh!" he yelped in surprise.

She pressed down on the rag and kneaded the deadened muscle. After almost a minute of calling Cameron every obscene name he could think of, his face softened as his pain-stricken groans transformed into heavenly sounding ones.

If anyone else were here, Cameron thought lightheartedly, they'd think he was having sex. She smiled smugly as she continued to work his leg into being pain free.

A few minutes later, House felt the Vicodin kicking in, and sleep soon engulfed him, once again. Cameron could feel the indentions that made up his scar, but they didn't bother her.

If he could see the grotesquely scaring of the damaged heart she wore on her sleeve, they'd look identical.

House & Cameron

8:45 rolled around and they were woken up, yet again, only this time by House's landline.

"Who is it?" he groaned, his voice muffled by the pillow he held over his face to keep the morning light out.

Cameron grabbed the cordless from it's cradle and read the screen.

_Wilson, James_

"It's Wilson," she said, groggily.

House pulled the pillow tighter across his face. "Answer it or he'll keep calling."

She looked startled. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Tell him you're Paula. He'll buy that, he's never talked to her before," he muttered.

"I am **not** your _whore_!" she exclaimed. "And I'm not going to act like her, either."

"Go ahead, it'll be fun! For us, anyway. Well, maybe for one of us, at least," he grinned half-awake.

"No!" she insisted.

"I'll tamper with some test results and show Chase how you contracted Herpes," he warned.

…Ring…, …Ring…

"You wouldn't!" she said, narrowing her eyes. _No, he would._

"You're right! You become mysteriously pregnant would be ten times more likely with your safety habits." He smirked. "Oops! The condom broke!"

"Fine!" she growled, pushing the talk button.

"Like, hello?" Cameron answered in her best valley girl voice.

"Um…hi, this is Dr. Wilson, is Dr. House there?" he asked hesitantly.

"Like, of course he's here. It's _his_ phone, _hello_!"

House couldn't help but laugh a little.

"She doesn't sound like that!" he whispered, hitting her with the pillow that covered his face. "Her voice is softer and prettier."

She frowned at his insult. _Fine,_ she thought, _two can play that game!_

Wilson continued nervously. "Is he busy right now?"

She grinned at the opportunity she'd been given.

"Well, he said, like, I'll pay you to do me, and I was, like, okay, and then we went into his room and he was like, ripping his pants off SO fast-"

House's body shook as he laughed. _Wilson's probably blushing and wishing he were dead_, he thought.

"and then," Cameron continued, "he was all like, I'm gonna make you scream, and I was all like, you've got to be kidding me…"

House's laughter started to die as he heard the conversation turn grim.

She went on, 'and I was all, like, what is that? It's, like, so tiny, I'd have to be, like, and _ant _to see that…"

House's expression changed instantly to shock as he grabbed the phone from Cameron. While he was scolding the beautiful smile she displayed, he couldn't help but feel a little proud of her for even talking to Wilson.

"Whoa!" House said into the phone to Wilson, his angry eyes never leaving Cameron's amused ones. "You'll have to excuse Mrs. Porker from next door; she's off her meds again. Thought my place was hers."

Wilson didn't buy it. "House, the lady next door, Mrs. _Parker_, died last week."

House frowned. "How would you know?"

Wilson rolled his eyes, "She was my patient. She died of lymphoma. I had to wheel her to the morgue myself."

House pulled the phone from his ear. "What was that? Great!" he said to an invisible person across the room. "She found that tiny back to her earring she was telling you about that she lost earlier," he explained.

Cameron buried her face into the pillow, laughing as quietly as she could, then walked into the living room.

He watched her leave.

"Got to go, call girl made me breakfast," he said, hanging up.

He grabbed his cane and limped to the kitchen, moaning as he realized his dilemma was still with him.

As he turned the corner, he could hear Cameron talking to someone on her cell.

"No…not at all…it was actually pretty impressive…maybe it wasn't _all _the drugs…"

_Was she talking about what I think she's talking about? Did she call me impressive?_

"…yes…no…I can't tell him that…it's not mutual…he doesn't, not about me…"

_Can't tell me what? What don't I do about you?_

"…tonight…New Orleans…the Shelby…no, he couldn't care, he gave it to me…"

_Shelby? As in, Carroll Shelby?_

"…no, we broke up…he was too…I don't know…self centered…"

_She must be talking about the wombat, _he concluded.

"…hair isn't everything, Ray…"

_Definitely talking about Chase. Who's Ray?_

"…OK, tell everyone I said 'hi'…Bye." She said, snapping her phone closed.

She turned around and was startled to find House staring back at her, looking pretty wasted.

"Hi," she managed to get out.

He nodded. "Have a nice talk?" he asked.

She began to stammer for words when he cut her off. "I meant with Wilson, Malibu Barbie," he smirked.

She blushed. "Yeah, sorry about that…" she said, her voice trailing off.

"No, you're not. You're sorry that you care so much about whether I care or not about it."

She put her phone back in her coat and wrapped it around herself.

"Thanks for letting me stay here last night. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

He shrugged. Truth was that he'd never felt so comfortable with anyone, even during the awkward moments. Not even with Stacy.

She walked over to him and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close. "Thanks again," she said, trying not to over squeeze him or bump into _anything_.

He stood there and let her hug him, getting a whiff of the familiar scent of the fruity shampoo she used. _I wonder_ _if she tastes as good as she smells_, he thought curiously.

"I'll see you tonight," she said, pulling away. "The hospital. 11:30 sharp don't be late!" she warned him, smiling as she walked out the door, locking it behind her.

"Yeah," House said to no one. "See ya."

Then he turned back to his bedroom, and suddenly, he felt lonelier than he had ever felt before. Almost like, she took a piece of him with her when she left.


	7. MiniChapter: Cuddy's Secret Meeting

**Author's Note: This is a mini-chapter because I forgot to write about it before House and Cameron leave. Hope you enjoy it, Chapter Seven will be posted soon. Danielle Lynne P.S. I added a little in Chapter Six where House pulls Cameron into his bedroom with him.**

Chapter Six Point Five

**_Cuddy's Secret Coffee Shop Meeting _**

_12:16 p.m._

_Daily Grind Coffee Shop_

Cuddy sat impatiently at the round, glass table, her Double Decaf Mocha Latte with extra sprinkles. _Where is he? He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!_

She couldn't help but fidget in her seat. It always made her nervous when she sat waiting for someone and the people around her would stare, as if she was pathetic or she'd been stood up.

After another couple minutes of worry passed, she spotted his face, trying to get past the line of people waiting to get to the counter.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Lisa. I had a meeting with a patient's family at the last minute." He sighed, looking mournful. "She passed away this morning."

"Oh, James, that's awful!" she gasped, her hand to her mouth. "What was she diagnosed with?"

He returned he shock and concern with one very grim. "Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. She was diagnosed with it about six months ago. She wasn't supposed to make it longer than a month after it was found."

Cuddy placed an empathetic hand over Wilson's. "It sounds like she was a fighter," she stated, hoping that lightened the mood a little.

He tried to smile, but found it difficult to keep it for very long. It was all a part of the job, at least that was what he told himself, to make it easier to handle. He hated being cancer's angel of death.

Cuddy picked up on the depression that was trying to engulf him, so she patted his hand and changed the subject.

"So, do you think Cameron's going to kill him and leave him in Louisiana?" she joked, lifting her cup to her mouth.

He laughed. "Not if he kills her first, which wouldn't be unlikely after the blow to his ego last night."

Cuddy's eyes bulged in excitement and curiosity. "What happened?"

Wilson's eyes regained the sparkle that they normally held. "Apparently, he embarrassed her in public, so she hit him below the belt, so to speak."

"She kicked him where it counts, huh? I'm surprised, I didn't take Cameron to be the violent type," she shrugged.

He shook his head. "No, not exactly. She slipped him some Viagra pills instead of Vicodin. I'll bet he's been like a tree ever since."

Cuddy choked on her coffee, coughing to get her airway cleared. Her coughing soon turned to laughing and she held a napkin to her mouth in case she coughed again. Wilson moved to the chair next to her, leaning into her in case he needed to pat her on the back.

"Are you alright," he asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright. I guess I didn't expect to hear that, but I'm glad he got what was coming to him," she said grinning, feeling almost avenged for all the things he's done to her.

"Well, I hope they settle things on this trip. Hopefully they'll both return. If we're lucky, they'll be alive."

Cuddy began to worry. "Oh, you don't think that they'll-"

"No, I'm sure they'll be fine. They're both incredibly smart doctors, I'm sure they can get through anything."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, I really do," he reassured her.

She nodded in agreement.

"You know what I was wondering when they left my office this morning?" she asked him.

Wilson shook his head, but guessed anyway. "What will happen if Chase finds out that House went with her?"

"I'm not worried about Chase," she said, sighing. "I was wondering who I'm worried about the most, the physical cripple, or the emotional one."

"Isn't House both?" Wilson asked, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but House has a cane to lean on. What happens when Cameron feels cripple emotionally. What's she got to lean on?"

He looked at her, feeling the answer was obvious.

"The feelings House claims to _not_ have for her."

She frowned. "I just hope you're right, James. I hope you're right."

"If nothing else, we have House out of our hair for about a month," he remarked, trying to make it seem like it was worth it to put Cameron through that.

"Well, the Clinic will run smoothly," she agreed. "I think I'm going to miss his childish antics and yelling at him to go to work. Watching General Hospital just isn't the same if I can't kick him out of his office first to watch it!" she said, tears starting to form in her eyes.

Wilson was stunned by her sudden burst of emotion.

"Lisa, why are you upset? You should be jumping up and down in joy that House won't be here to ruin things, instead, you're crying like he died and is never coming back!"

She wiped her eyes and leaned in to hug Wilson. "I know. I'm just…going to miss him! And Cameron, too!"

He nodded, hugging back. "I know, me too. I have no one to eat lunch with now."

Cuddy pulled back and smiled at him. "Don't worry. I'll eat lunch with you."

"Really?" he asked in amazement.

"I'll even steal your chips and charge your tab," she said, winking at him.

He smiled. "Don't forget to complain about the pickles."

"Deal," she said, as they got up from the table. "But," she said, "I'm not going to the men's bathroom with you."

He lengthened his boyish smile. "I think I can handle that. Does this make me Cameron?"

She laughed. "No, but you have nice eyes too!" she complimented him.

"Thanks," he blushed.

They stood smiling at each other.

"So, she said, breaking the silence, "General Hospital? House's office. 3:00."

He laughed. "I've got no patients this afternoon. You're on!"


	8. Let's Go: Part Three: Driving Dr House

_Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm SO sorry it took me this long to update! I hit some snags and revised the previous chapters to fix a couple of mistakes, such as the repetition of Cuddy find out about House's dilemma and fixing House's age. Thank you to the people who pointed these out. And now, without further ado, on with the Hameron!_

Chapter Seven

_**Let's Go Part Three: Driving Dr. House**_

House pulled into his parking space where he noticed Cameron had thoughtfully parked the Freestar next to. He opened his door and popped his trunk, watching Cameron throw her own bags into the cargo compartment.

As she stepped back to check if all her bags were in there, she saw him leaning against his car.

"Aren't you going to nag me for being late? It's 11:50," he informed her.

She smiled. "Nope."

"Why not? And why are you smiling?" he inquired, "I'm _giving _you an excuse. Why aren't you taking it?"

"You're not late. I told you 11:30 because I knew you'd deliberately be late. Cuddy wanted us to leave by 11:59. Nice try. Now grab your bags and throw 'em in the van!"

_Hmm…I think I'll play the "helpless cripple" card_, he decided, bending over slightly, rubbing his leg as if hurt him all of a sudden. She could tell he was faking it, but she was in too good of a mood to care.

Her eyes rolled and she shook her head. "You know, for a cripple, you're pretty lazy," she teased, walking to his open trunk and grabbing his camouflaged duffel bag. She handed him his backpack and hoisted the duffel over her shoulder and threw it into the back of the pitch black SUV, slamming down the hatch.

"I'm not lazy, I have a disability. I would think that you, the Queen of Compassion, would know by now that I'm incapable of doing easy everyday tasks and that I'm helpless," he replied, his lips pouting.

"More like hopeless," she muttered under her breath.

"My _Diagnostician for Dummies_ handbook, also tells me that I'm entitled to take advantage of the littlest duckling by giving her all the paperwork, coffee duty, and bag handling tasks that she can handle."

"Whatever. You riding up front or in the back?"

He debated. "I'll take the backseat for $200, Alex," he said. "Want to join me?", he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She almost stumbled over her words, but kept herself collected. "One of us has to drive. Cars don't drive themselves."

"Yet," he corrected. "They're working on the technology to enable them to do that. They can already parallel park themselves with the touch of a button."

"The new articles in the New England Journal of Medicine have really taken quite a turn," she said sarcastically, smiling at him.

"Cuddy sees what I want her to see. I hide the _Car & Driver_ in front of it," he told her, grinning slyly.

She wasn't really surprised that he did that, but she was surprised he was so open about telling her about it.

"Really?" she said, playing along. "So, the other day when you were skimming through that textbook, what was it was hiding, a Playboy?"

He raised an amused brow. "_Playboy_'s overrated. Too many articles. I prefer _Dirty Diagnosticians_. It's much more...educational. How do you think I learned how to perform mammograms?"

She chuckled. "That's far more than I needed to know. Although, you might want to change textbooks to hide them in."

He agreed. "You're right. It's too obvious. It's never Lupus."

"Yeah, Cuddy might figure it out sooner or later. Especially if you take it to the bathroom with you," she laughed.

"You _have _been stalking me," he joked. His stomach interrupted them by letting out a hideous growl. "I guess I'm hungry."

"I don't suppose you brought food with you, did you?" she asked.

"I bought some Skittles, but they won't last very long. Didn't you bring any?" He knew full well he hadn't packed any real food, in hopes to bum some off of Cameron.

"Yeah, but you're going to want something to drink on the way down there."

He opened his backpack and pulled out his bottle of scotch. "One for the road."

She sighed, and walked toward the driver's door. "You're going to _drink_ and sleep the whole way there, aren't you? This is going to be one lonely trip."

He pulled back on the sliding door and climbed inside. "Only for you."

"Did you have your physical done?" she asked. Neither one of them could go if either of them were sick.

"Depends, are you volunteering?" he asked with a quizzically raised eyebrow. He enjoyed the shocked look she had on her face, and ran with it. "Thanks, _Doc_, but I turn my head and cough for no one."

She stared at him. "You _do_ know a physical's required to enter military territory, right?"

He blew it off. "We're not joining the Army. Besides, you're a doctor; you can take one of those sheets and fill it out for me. You probably know more about me than I do about myself, and you're so good at those loopy 'G's."

She scolded him. "I can't forge a physical exam, House, unless a physical exam was _actually_ performed."

He thought back on the events of all that's happened in the last year. "I had a full exam after I was shot. Use that record if they ask."

She shrugged, hoping that would suffice. She started the van and began to pull out of the parking spot, almost hitting an old red pickup that screeched to a halt behind her. When she saw it, she slammed on the brakes, sending House flying forward and then harshly backwards, his head hitting the headrest of his seat.

"Jeez, Cameron! What are you trying to do, take my head off?" he yelled.

"Sorry, House, but some idiot…" her voiced trailed off when she spun around in time to watch the occupant of the aged Ranger jumped from the cab and ran up to the front of the van.

It was a breathless Chase.

"Cameron!" he yelled, knocking on the window. Cameron's jaw slacked in surprise.

House groaned, hiding behind the privacy tinted windows in the back. _What do you know? She was right, _he told himself. _Tell_ _him to go away, Cameron!_ His eyes silently pleaded to her, but she didn't see them in time.

She shifted the van into Park and rolled down the window. "Chase! What are you doing here?"

He was still panting heavily, probably from running to catch her. "Allison, wait! Please wait! I just wanted to give you this."

She took the white envelope from him and looked over at him. "What's this?" she asked.

He half-smiled. "It's just something for you to take with you, so you don't feel so homesick when you're gone."

House watched silently in the back as a wave of nausea and curiosity crashed into him. _What are you up to, Romeo?_

She forced a smile for him, "Thanks, Chase. I'll open it later."

He ran his hand through his hair, knowing it was an awkward moment for the both of them.

"Listen, Cameron, I know what I said to you earlier was wrong. I know you want to be with him, but I just don't like seeing him treat you like that. He's an arrogant, self-righteous bastard who could really use an attitude adjustment and it may take a cane up his-"

"Chase!" she said, wincing, knowing House was going to use all of this as blackmail for later.

"What?" he shrugged, "What do you want me to say? I don't like how he treats you, and I think he needs to know how it feels to be patronized and put down, day after day, after all the great work you do and to him it's never enough!"

Her eyes narrowed. "We're not talking about me anymore, are we?"

He looked down in embarrassment. "I just, don't want you to keep hurting yourself, Allison. I know you're not a masochist; you don't _enjoy_ putting yourself out there just so he can deny and humiliate you."

Cameron blushed. _Shut up, Chase!_

"I'm just saying, if you want to know what it's like to be a in a _real _relationship, with a real _man_, who actually cares about you, you're better off to-"

"You'd be better off dating Wilson," a gruff, unfriendly voice said, abruptly cutting Chase off. He commonly mistook it as Satan, but when the face verified the voice, Chase never felt like his guess was too far off.

"He's the sensitive emotional type and he could make an honest woman out of you. I could get you references if you need them, I think he's got 3 now…or is it 30? I can never keep track," House continued.

Chase froze, looking at Cameron as if the cold hand of death just touched his shoulder.

"House?" he gulped, while searching Cameron's face for the hope of a negative answer.

She nodded quietly and looked down at the power controls on the door panel.

"In the flesh. Or the Freestar, I should say."

Chase turned to Cameron. "Taking him home again?" he asked, hopeful.

House opened the sliding door. "Are you done serenading poor Dr. Cameron so we can go, or are you just warming up for the finale?"

Chase turned back to stare at Cameron while pointing at House. "He's- He's going _with _you?" he stammered, in disbelief.

She shrugged. "He's already promised to drink himself into silence. I can't ask for much more than that."

House's amusement persuaded him to continue. "Have you heard the rumors? The grapevine claims that I'm an arrogant, self-righteous, patronizing, sadistic bastard who deserves a cane up my rectum. I think they're being a little over-dramatic, myself."

He leaned over and stage whispered into Chase's ear. "I don't think _that _highly of my own _phenomenal_ talents."

Chase was so discouraged by House that he tried to play it off like everything was fine, and forced a smile for Cameron. "Ok, we'll, anyway, drive safely." He looked at House, lividly, out of the corner of his eye. "I hope _one_ of you doesn't happen to _accidentally_ drown."

Cameron was completely appalled that Chase would say that, no matter who it was meant for. She stared at him, open-mouthed. Chase acknowledged the impact she'd taken from his blow and softened his expression.

"Not you," he reassured her.

House grabbed his cane and whipped it around, striking Chase on the back of his knee. He watched as Chase grabbed the back of his leg in agony and stared evilly at him. Grinning victoriously, he closed the sliding door and pulled his iPod from his bag.

"I'll be here when you're ready to go, Care Bear."

Chase looked baffled and disgusted all at once. "Did _he_ just call you, _Care_ _Bear_?"

"It's her professional_ stage _name," House interjected, with a completely straight face, donning his headphones.

Cameron grumbled something at him and turned back to Chase. "It's nothing."

"What do you call _him_, Lucifer?"

Cameron scolded him. "Chase! We have to go. Can you let us out, please?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, have a good time, Cameron."

Although it looked like House was merely listening to his music, he had one earpiece only halfway in, still listening to his music and watching them intently.

Without warning, Chase leaned into the vehicle and kissed Cameron. It was short and sweet, not long enough to give Cameron time to push him away, but he noticed that she didn't kiss back. House felt his temper rise as he saw Chase give him a smug look from the front of the van, while Cameron bowed her head, as if she'd been taken advantage of. _If there were a corner,_ House thought, _she'd probably be sitting down and rocking in it._

Chase smiled once more at Cameron and started to walk back to his truck, when the back window rolled down, revealing House evilly leering at him.

Chase felt a little nervous at the look he was getting, but when he remembered it was him, and not his boss, that kissed Cameron, his smile shone brightly. "Dr. House," he said, nodding at him in accomplished pride.

"British twit," he replied, nodding as well. House's angry stare turned into something that resembled the Cheshire cat; he had simply gone mad. Chase was more confused and frightened by his stare than anything he could've physically done to him at that moment, and he jogged back to the truck, pulling out of the parking lot.

House's grin melted into a frown when he turned to Cameron. Her eyes met with House's through the rear-view mirror and she discovered that they were burning with unspeakable emotion. She held his gaze for a moment, and then reluctantly let it fall from his beautiful baby blues. Shifting the van into reverse, she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, ignorant to what awaited them both.

_**House & Cameron**_

After a few hours of driving, Cameron grew hungry. She pulled off of the road and into a dimly lit rest stop. Coming to a stop, she removed the keys from the ignition and sat back into the driver's seat, and sighed. For a moment, the van was so peaceful; she almost forgot House was still there. She moved the rear view mirror to find him serenely asleep. He was slouched in his chair; his cane lay on the floor, and his bad leg stretched out in front of him.

_He may be comfortable now,_ she thought, _but as soon as he wakes up, so will his pain._

"House?" she said, softly, trying not to startle him. He sighed deeply, but didn't move.

Cameron smiled and she fought with her conscience. _I __**really**__ don't want to wake him. There's almost a child-like innocence to him. On the other hand, _she reminded herself, _he might get angry later on if we stopped and, God forbid, he had to pee or something._

After another minute of reveling in the moment of rare tranquility, she pushed on.

"House?" she tried again. But still, the only sign of life showing from him was the faint rise and fall of his chest and an occasional hint of REM.

_Well, third time's a charm, _she told herself.

She turned around in her chair and placed her hand, lightly, on the knee of his good leg.

"House," she cooed.

This time his body twitched, and his eyes wearily opened to find Cameron's Bambi eyes fixed gently on him. Unsure about what to say, he straightened up in his seat and gently rubbed his face with his hands.

"Where are we and why have we stopped?" he asked, brushing the remaining signs of sleep from his eyes. They darted around as he took in his surroundings, and they stopped when he found Cameron's hand on him. He paused in thought and slowly looked up to her.

She quickly removed her hand in embarrassment. "We're at a rest stop in Pennsylvania, right outside of Pittsburg. I'm sure we could both use a good stretch. I want food and you look like you need a Vicodin cocktail."

House shot her a somewhat surprised, yet still annoyed look. He was tempted to reply a sarcastic remark back to her, but she had already hopped out of the vehicle and began stretching like a gymnast. He watched her arch her back like a cat, reverse it, and regain her composure gracefully. Pulling the bottom of her shirt back down, she made her way to the rear sliding door and slid it open. House grabbed his cane and climbed out, turning to Cameron as he heard it being closed again.

"Carry on, my little do-gooder," he smirked, using a snobby, English accent, patting her on the head.

_That was his abrasively rude way of saying "Thank you"?_ She wondered. _Oh, well, it was better than the alternative-nothing._

She shook her head and followed him into the building.

The lobby was lined with vending machines, pamphlets on local attractions, and a statewide map, complete with it's own unique red arrow "You Are Here!" sticker.

House limped to the bathroom marked _Men, _as Cameron grabbed a few dollar bills from her pocket and fed them to a nearby machine, in exchange for bag of chips, and a can of Vault from another. She set them both down on a nearby bench and headed into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, House emerged from the unsanitary conditions of the rest stop's male facility, and found a can of soda and bag of chips calling to him from the bench across the room. He searched for Cameron, but not finding her around, he snatched the food and popped them open, awaiting her return. He didn't have to wait too long.

Cameron dried her hands and stepped out of the bathroom, to find House, sitting on the bench that previously held her food, reading a leaflet on the Hershey Factory in Hershey, PA.

"House, where's my food?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

He shrugged, reading further on.

"You ate my chips _and _drank my soda in the time it took me to go into the bathroom and come back out? You're such a pig," she stated, shaking her head. She'd never admit it, but she was slightly impressed he could down them both, stash the evidence, and have time to limp back to the bench in time to look innocent.

He looked over the literature he held. "I didn't eat _your _food. It was the bench's food and it was in the possession of the bench, and possession is 9/10ths of the law. At least, that's what my promiscuous lawyer keeps telling everyone."

"Wilson told me that he hasn't eaten a single chip from any bag he's paid for in almost three years!" she said, incredulously.

"Tisk, tisk. Doesn't he know that there's little kids in third world countries like Indonesia, starving for little crumbs from all of the crap that he eats?"

She pulled another dollar from her pocket and fed it to the machine again. "Funny, you don't _look _Indonesian…"

She pressed **B9** for another bag of Doritos. "I'll bet they could feed a dozen kids for a whole year with the amount of money he spent on food he bought that you swiped and devoured."

"This," he said, throwing her the informational brochure, "is where we need to go."

She caught it and turned it over to read it. "The Hershey Factory? House, we can't go there right now. It's about 200 miles back from where we just came from."

He folded his hands and stuck out his lips, pleadingly.

"Look, I don't mind if we go, but it's going to have to be on the way back. We've got to get to Illinois in time to get the paperwork and start heading south."

"Fine," he pouted. Grabbing his cane, he walked by her, snatching the brochure from her hands, and limped to the door. Cameron followed close behind him.

"You wanna drive?" she asked, dangling the keys.

He shook his head. "Yes, but not yet. I'm enjoying being chauffeured around," he said, climbing into the vehicle.

She sighed and jumped back into the driver's seat and fetched a stay-awake pill out of her backpack. She dry swallowed it and pulled out and back onto the highway. She was about to ask him to talk to her, to keep her awake, but he's already pulled out his PlayStation Portable and was tackling Level None of Super Mario Brothers, his headphones snugly fit into his ears.

_Always such a kid, _she thought, with a slight smile.

She drove on in silence. Feeling a little drowsier, she popped more anti-drowsy pills and drove on.

_**House & Cameron**_

A couple of hours, and almost a half a bottle of No-Doz later, Cameron still felt sleepy. Her eyes kept drooping and she had to crack her window to let the cold morning air keep her awake.

Soon, the cool breeze's effects on keeping her alert were dwindling and the van drifted to the middle of the highway. Tires met the grooves in the concrete median and the sound of grinding could be heard under them.

House looked up from his PSP and took out his headphones.

"What's that hideous grinding noise? If it's a flat tire, you're changing it" he said, looking at Cameron for the answer.

The one she gave him wasn't one he wanted. Her arms fell to her sides and her heavy head hit the steering wheel.

"Cameron!" he yelled, expecting her to wake up and gain control, but sadly, she didn't even flinch.

"Cameron! Wake up!" he yelled again, but this time, it was full of concern, and some might say, it sounded a little like he was scared.

As he continued to try to get through to her, he realized the grinding noise get deeper, and then it hit him- they were moving closer to the opposite lane.

And into oncoming traffic...


	9. You've Got to Move, NOW!

Chapter Eight

_**You've got to Move, Now!**_

"Cameron!" he shouted, having his pleas fall onto deaf ears. Concluding that she wasn't going to wake, he painfully leapt from the back seat and knelt agonizingly between the front captain's chairs. House's heart began pounding in his chest; the adrenaline racing through him took the edge off of his leg pain, as the loud horn of a semi blared in their direction, warning them of the decreasing distance between them.

House quickly grabbed the steering wheel and carefully guided them back over the median into their original lane, just as the 18-wheeler flew right past them, sending a wall of wind sideswiping into them.

The van veered to the right, but made a swift comeback. He carefully reached back behind him and grabbed his cane from the floor. He pulled it up and maneuvered it between Cameron's limp legs, depressing the brake pedal. The mini-van slowly rolled to an abrupt stop, safely on the shoulder.

He shifted it to Park and pulled the keys from the vehicle. He turned feverishly to Cameron's lifeless body.

"Cameron, wake up!" he commanded, framing her fragile, porcelain face with his roughly, callused hands. Moving one of his hands, he lowered it to her neck, checking for a pulse; it was existent, but weak. Checking her other vitals, he found everything else to be pretty normal.

_What happened, Cameron?_ He wondered. _What did this to you?_

He grabbed the backpack she kept up front with her and sat back down in his seat, searching through it. Food…hairbrush…deodorant…hairspray…she had kept some of her more used toiletries handy. He closed the large compartment and noticed some bottle-like containers protruding from the front pocket.

He unzipped the pouch to find different prescription bottles. Hydrocodone. Diazepam. Naproxen. Among them were also two bottles bought over the counter. Caffeine Pills and Acetaminophen.

_Surely she doesn't need all of these! _Checking the labels, he found that the Diazepam and Naproxen were prescribed by Cuddy, but Wilson called in the Hydrocodone. Under closer examination, he also noticed that the Vicodin was prescribed for Dr. Gregory House.

House's eyes narrowed. _Why does she have one of my prescriptions? Is she trying to hide them from me to prove a point?_

He shook the thought from his head; there were more important things to worry about at the moment.

He pocketed the Vicodin and counted the remaining pills in each prescribed cylinder. One Valium was missing since the last time he counted them in his hand the night before, two of the Naproxen, and a full dozen of the No-Doz.

"Jeez, Cameron! What were you trying to do, go crazy or slip into a coma?" he asked her, knowing full well it was neither.

That's when he remembered the prescribing doctor for the Viagra she gave him the day before. _Wilson._

He grabbed his cell and waited impatiently for his half-asleep best friend to answer.

"Thank you for calling the **Doctor House Complaint Hotline**. We're sorry, but no one's available to console you while you cry or calm your impending, explosive rage at the moment, but if you leave a message, we'll have call you back and apologize to you as soon as can."

"Wake up, Judas!" he growled.

"I don't deny you. Well, at least not to your face," Wilson yawned. "I try to around Cuddy, but she knows better when she sees that man with the cane abandoning me in the lunch line, complaining of pickles."

"So, you and Cameron are co-conspiring bosom buddies now, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"You know _exactly _what I'm talking about! If you think having an erection for 4 hours is bad, wait till you have one for 48 hours!" he barked.

Wilson chuckled. "_That_ long, huh? What makes you think I had any part in this?"

"Well, unless there's another Dr. James Wilson who calls in prescriptions for Princeton-Plainsboro and somehow knew that I needed some pills for a condition I definitely didn't have, although I might now, you're the million dollar winner, Jimmy Boy!"

"So that bottle ratted me out, huh? Kudos to Cameron for not ratting me out."

House sighed in frustration. "If only she were able to," he mumbled.

"What was that?" Wilson asked. "What do you mean 'if she were able', House? You didn't blindfold and gag her, did you? Are you driving? Are you even still driving to Illinois?"

"Don't get your superhero tights in a bunch, Boy Wonder Oncologist, she's fine. I think."

"You think? What the heck did you do to her?"

"Nothing!" he barked. "Why does everyone assume _I_ did something to her?"

"What's wrong with her, House? Is she okay? Let me talk to her," Wilson panicked.

"I'm pretty sure it's a counteraction of the script drugs she's on. She's unconscious right now, so, you can talk to her all you want, you just won't get any other answer except…" House grunted and gave him a mock-snore.

"Stop that!" Wilson snapped.

House turned serious. "I called you to find out why you gave Cameron Valium and why Cuddy prescribed her Naproxen."

"That's Doctor-Patient confidentiality, House, I can't-"

"She became my patient the moment she passed out at the wheel. Why's she taking Valium and Naproxen?"

Wilson filled House in on Cameron's last visit with him. "She takes the Valium for anxiety and jaw problems."

House's eyes furrowed in confusion. "Well, the anxiety's _obviously_ from Chase following her around all the time. What kind of jaw problems are we talking about?" he asked.

Wilson continued to explain, hoping Cameron wouldn't kill him later. "Cameron has a Temporomandibular Joint Disorder."

"If her lower jaw is inflamed, why don't you just put her on steroids?"

"Because," said Wilson, "her case is more of a rare one. X-ray's show her articular disc, slides out from between her condyle and fossa, causing her jaw to lock, open and closed. I've seen her during both."

House was shocked. "Cameron has lock-jaw?" he said slowly, trying to comprehend what he just said.

Wilson nodded, and then forgot that House couldn't see him. "More or less."

"I told her to unclench," he sang, in an "I told you so" manner.

"Clenching may not have helped her condition, but it most likely wasn't the cause of it. It seems more like Trismus. It's a condition seen in patients diagnosed with Tetanus, where the mouth is held shut by a sustained muscle spasm."

"And, the cure is Valium?" he asked, annoyed.

"No," he said, "the only treatment to give her is to treat the underlying problem. I gave her a muscle relaxant and uses a warm compress during the day when it gets real bad."

"I've seen her stare at me sometimes and not talk, but I just took it as being overwhelmed with sexual feelings for me and becoming speechless."

"If you never noticed, she did a great job of keeping it hidden. They say the pain's terrible, pretty close to an infarction," Wilson hinted.

"Last time I checked, Tetanus was an Infectious Disease."

"Yeah…" Wilson agreed, hesitantly.

"Cameron's a _smart_ immunologist."

Wilson agreed with him again, with more hesitation. "Uh huh."

"Oncology is the study of cancer and you're apparently the head of it."

Wilson was completely lost.

"Is this a trap?" he asked, wondering what House had up his sleeve. "Where is this going?"

"I'm certified, specifically in the field of Infectious Diseases, and Cameron chose to go to you, an oncologist, with an Infectious Disease. In what world does that make sense? Why didn't she that one guy over in I.D.? What's that one-legged bastard's name?"

Wilson rolled his eyes, replying with sarcasm. "Oh, you mean Doctor House? You're mistaken. He's got two legs; he just uses a cane because he's emotionally crippled. It tends to weigh him down."

"Why didn't she come to me?" he said, feeling somewhat dejected.

"She said she trusted me to find the right diagnosis."

"That's crap!" he snapped.

Wilson stood in disbelief. "Are you implying that I can't find the right diagnosis?"

"No," he assured him, "but she didn't go to you because she trusted you. She's worked for me for three years and we've diagnosed conditions that field specialists and experts couldn't figure out."

Wilson didn't want him to find out the truth. "Maybe she figured her case wasn't interesting or entertaining enough."

House shook his head. "Nope, this is _definitely _interesting! Not so much entertaining, considering she almost died and took me with her. Let's call it, _interestingly eventful_."

"So, you think she didn't come to you because she wanted to get you into a mini-van and try to kill you later on down the line?"

House sneered at him. "I'm not sure _why_ she didn't come to me, but I've got a theory. Wait a minute. Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

He heard Wilson huff into the phone. "She asked me not to tell you."

"Why? What's she afraid that I'll do? Diagnose her?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny anything you ask me about Cameron's reasoning behind her asking for confidentiality."

"Hey, Benedict Arnold! _Whose_ friend are you?" House exclaimed.

"You're right. Why _would _she keep anything from Greg House, the absolute epitome of sensitivity and unconditional love," said Wilson, his words intoxicated with sarcasm.

"You're emotionally farsighted, you're miserable and you've set out to make everyone else miserable in return, and your sarcasm is enough to turn a clinically stable person into Jerry, the guy upstairs who talks with his hand and insists that soft-shelled turtles are out to rule the world."

"Come on, Jimmy," House urged, "tell me what you _really _think."

"Frankly, you'd be the _last _person _I'd_ confide in! If Cameron wasn't coming to me every time she was worried about you, maybe I could sit down and mope about my own issues for a change."

"Her jaw locks, she mixes 'scripts and she's worried about _me_?" he asked, astonished.

"Out of the two of you, she's the least self-concerned, mean-spirited-"

"Yeah," House cut in, "I get it. She's a beauty; I'm the Beast. What's your point?" he growled.

"Look, Stacy cared about you…" Wilson started.

"Everybody lies," House stressed through gritting teeth.

"You care about her…" he shot back.

"I _don't_ care about her!" he yelled.

"You do. Or at least, you did," Wilson said, remaining calm.

House's eyes fell to his shoes. "It doesn't matter."

"Maybe not. Maybe going on this trip helped…" he suggested.

"No. We were both forced on a vacation at the same time to the same place," he said, defensively.

"No!" said Wilson, "Cameron _volunteered _to go help sick and homeless people with her vacation time. She _wanted _to go. Why did you go?"

"Cuddy bribed me with time off Clinic Duty!"

"No," he said, shooting down his excuse, "you could've easily squirmed your way out of going like you do conferences, benefits, and seminar speeches."

Wilson felt like he had just discovered a gold mine. It may not make him wealthy, but it's priceless, nonetheless. House felt cornered.

"Hey! You tricked me!" he accused.

Wilson mentally stumbled backwards. "Into _what_?"

"Coming on this trip!" he answered.

"How did I trick you into going? I didn't talk to or see you before the trip!"

"Exactly!" House shot at him, "You didn't even _try_ to stop me!"

_He's grasping at straws now, _Wilson thought. "Yes, shame on me for tricking you into a vacation with a woman who's madly in love with you! I'm a horrible friend for putting you in such a position to be loved and adored!"

"You threw a Nazi in a room with Ann Frank. Complete opposites. The only prognosis possible would be that she would get hurt!"

Wilson sighed.

House continued. "What did you think was going to happen? Do you _want_ Cameron to suffer? What'd she do, use your name to get into the transsexual bar down the street?"

_Leave it to him to make a sarcastic comment in the middle of a serious conversation that was about him!_ Wilson thought. "I want her to be happy!" he confessed.

"So, you fed her to the wolves? Ah! Burn her so she doesn't want to play with fire anymore. Nice!" he said, trying to sound impressed.

"You make her happy. I don't know how, and I seriously can't figure out why, but you do. Have you seen the way she looks at you?"

"Like what? A pathetic, helpless cripple? Someone she can nurse back to health and then move on to someone else?"

"There it is!" Wilson exclaimed.

House stared at the phone. "What?"

"That's the reason that's stopping you! The _real_ reason! You're afraid that she's too much like you, now. She knows what pain is, so you can't say she doesn't understand what it's like to suffer and you're afraid she'll figure out the puzzle to Greg House and then throw you aside when she's done, like you do with all your patients. You're afraid that she's turning into you, and believe me, one of you is all this world can stand."

"Have you seen Cuddy lately? I think that 'insane people virus' thing is spreading…"

"And you know what the real kicker is?" Wilson said, laughing.

"You're afraid to love her, because you can't love yourself! You think that if she becomes you, there's nothing to love. But she sees _you,_ for you, and not the act you put on."

House swallowed hard.

"Thanks, Dr. Phil, for helping me seek out all the scary obstacles in my life," he mocked. "Lots of offense, _James_, but I'm not sure it's wise to take relationship advice from you. It's like asking a paraplegic war veteran how to earn that pretty Purple Heart medal _and _keep both his legs; it can't end well!"

"What if she came back?" he asked, softly.

"Stacy or Allis-" House winced at his verbal slip. "Cameron."

"Huh," Wilson chuckled. "She doesn't have a chance, does she?"

House looked at Cameron; her fragile facial features still as calm as the breaths she took. Realization dawned on him, and suddenly, he felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards.

"She had it and then she blew it, and ran home crying to Mark. I was just an escape route to her failing marriage," he said, agreeing with Cameron's previously heated words.

"Do you think that you blew your chance with Cameron?" he asked, carefully.

The truth was painful to admit, but the words were forced from his mouth and his head fell downwards again. "Over and over again."

"House, Cameron's a fairly forgiving person. She forgave you after all of the sarcastic remarks, and all the times you poked fun at her for her "fling" with Chase. Who knows? Maybe she's got one more chance waiting for you, as long as you don't screw it up intentionally."

"House?" came a tired, frail voice above him.

He raised his head up and his eyes met with those of a disoriented, but conscious, Cameron.

"I'm about to find out."


	10. Before She Explodes

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I had some formatting problems since I changed word processors. I'll continue to update as soon as I can.

Chapter Summary: House and Cameron make thier way to Illinois for the paperwork and stop for lunch. Some banter, a little slow chapter, but the story will pick back up, I promise.

Chapter Nine

_**Before She Explodes**_

House snapped his cell phone closed, unsure of the approach he'd use, until he settled on his usual one-sarcasm. "That was the police. Seems that there was a break in at the Porno Palace on 22nd and Main. They'd like you to go down to the station so they can ask you a few questions about driving the getaway vehicle."

Cameron's brows dipped to meet in the middle, her eyes filled with confusion as she searched her surroundings. Realizing where she was, her questioning stare turned into a deadly one.

He was surprised and glad at how she wasn't freaking out. "Wilson," he clarified for her, somehow knowing she'd ask.

Cameron was about to nod in acknowledgment, when he hand shot up to her forehead, rubbing over a blood-dried knot that was started to form. She hissed at the pain that radiated from it and turned in uncertainty to House.

"What happened?"

He cleared his throat. "While sleep is one of those great activities to keep yourself occupied for a few hours when you're hiding in the Janitor's closet to get out of clinic duty, it doesn't seem to get you very far while driving."

Cameron felt her stomach drop while she listened and she realized the last thing she remembered was driving before she passed out. Her hand flew up to her face, covering her dropped jaw. "Oh my…I-I…"

"You're stuttering," he pointed out.

Cameron stopped trying to talk and sat there, looking at House, completely astonished, her mouth still wide.

"You know, if you hold that long enough, it could get stuck," he warned her, teasingly.

Her eyes went wide. "What?"

"Switch me chairs," he said, grabbing his cane and exchanging places with Cameron. He sat down, propped his cane against the other chair and started the van, slowly pulling back out onto the road, getting them closer to their destination.

"My mother always told me, that if you held a face long enough, it would get stuck," he went on to explain, recalling that she never told him about her disorder.

"Oh," she replied, not quite sure whether to believe him. "House, I'm so-" she tried to apologize.

"Don't! I hate it when people apologize pathetically for things that were beyond their control."

"What? Are you trying to tell me that none of this was my fault?"

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to look at her, and then focused back on the road in front of him. "I think I should pay more attention to you from now on," he said, trying not to totally evade her original question, just detour it a bit.

Cameron was mystified at his words, and she thought that she just might have heard a little innuendo in his confession.

His last statement seemed to have worried her. "Medically," he added nervously.

"House, none of this was your fault because you didn't 'keep an eye on me'."

"Whoa, hold on! I never said it was _my _fault. I may not be right sometimes, but I'm never wrong. I was just trying to get you to stop asking for forgiveness because I don't want to hear it anymore. Even if we _did_ nearly become road kill just a few minutes ago, and your passenger almost wet himself."

She looked at him, puzzled. _He's not being sarcastic, and he's not angry. Is he trying to be…__**nice**__? This is a hallucination, _she assured herself.

"I think I may have a concussion."

"No doubt, my lil' crash test dummy. Stay awake until we hit the next exit and we'll stop to eat and take a look at your head."

"House, I really am-" she tried apologizing to him again, but he cut her off once more, annoyed that she kept pushing it.

"What do you want me to do, Cameron? Punish you?"

He pulled down the conversation mirror in the center ceiling console.

"Shame on you!" he mocked, parentally shaking his pointer finger at her reflection. "To hit you where it hurts, I'm grounding you from boys, sex, and caring for a month! However, if you and Cuddy want to have a sleepover, I'll allow it, if it's supervised. By me, though. And, I get to bring a friend."

"Fine," she said, playing along. "Wilson can come too."

He narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think I was referring to _him_? As a matter of a fact, I was talking about someone completely different."

She arched a brow. "House, body parts don't count as "someone", not even if you refer to it in the third person."

"I was talking about that one guy in Maintenance," he replied defensively.

"Oh really? What's his name?" she challenged.

"He told me, but I couldn't hear him; his head was buried in a toilet," he stated.

"Oh, you mean Tom!" she said, realizing who he was talking about. "Yeah, I've talked to him. He's a good guy. Really loves his job."

"Yeah, Tom's got those _special_ skills," said House, going along with it, completely ignorant to whom this 'Tom' guy was and how someone could love cleaning toilets for a living.

"Yeah, we were talking the other day in the hallway and he was telling me how his favorite part of his job was the floaters," Cameron said, biting back a smile.

House was completely in the dark now, and not sure how to respond to something like that. Dumbfounded, he just stared at her.

"You know, because he doesn't have to fish for them before they get _flushed_ away."

House cringed in disgust. "Remind me to never shake hands or eat lunch with that guy."

Cameron desperately tried not to laugh, but failed miserably, bursting into giggles.

House glared at her. "What's so funny?"

"Your _friend_…_Tom_…his name is Al and he works in the basement at Princeton," she explained. "He's the coroner and I don't think that he's forgiven you for hiding down in the morgue last week under the exam table and convincing him that the body was talking to him."

"I don't know what you're talking about. That wasn't me," he denied.

She snorted. "The _body _told him that she was cold and that he needed to turn up the heat and throw her a towel, while accusing him of being a pervert."

"It was bound to happen to him eventually. _Those_ are the kind of risks that you face everyday when you go into that line of work," he snickered.

She flashed him a sad smile, and reclined in the chair, looking down at the floor.

After a few moments of awkward silence, House felt that the tension was getting to be too much to handle, and forced himself to resort to small talk.

"22 Questions," he stated, more than suggested.

"22? Isn't it usually 20?" she asked.

"I knew you'd ask those two simple ones, so I added them on. I'll go first.

"What do you do when you're not caring, clenching, and dreaming of me?"

"Um…I read."

"Read what?"

"Nope," she reminded him. "That was your question, and I answered."

"Hardly!" he retorted. "That doesn't count. I call a redo. Now...Why'd you take them, Cameron?"

Cameron was stunned. "Take _what_?"

"Hey, no acting like Chase! It's bad enough there's _one_ of him and the beauty of this trip was that he wasn't here to ruin it. Why do you take all of those pills?"

Cameron's thoughts stopped deadly quickly and she suddenly turned very angry. "Pills? You went through my things?"

House swallowed hard, but hid it. _Dang it! Now's she mad. Why can't I ever talk to her without her ending up hating me? _His forehead wrinkled. "You're _surprised_ by this?"

She sighed. "Yes. No. Well, a little bit, considering I work for you. We don't normally do that unless it's to a patient. I'm not one of your puzzles, House!"

"But, you _became_ both a patient and a puzzle the second the van started swerving and my life flashed before my eyes. I knew something had to be the cause of it," he explained. "Don't worry, I didn't touch any of your _girly stuff_."

"Are you _happy_ now?" she asked heatedly.

A thousand different snarky comments entered his mind, but he was too serious-minded to dish any of them out.

"Happy?" he scoffed, "When have you ever known me to be happy?"

_Good point_, she thought, skimming through all of the memories she had of him, mentally labeling each one of his moods. _Let's see…_

Perturbed at Wilson… 

_Annoyed at Chase…_

_Angry at Foreman…_

_Furious with Cuddy…_

_Livid with Tritter…_

_Irate at Vogler…_

_Frustrated with me…_

She sighed in near defeat, when suddenly she stumbled upon some of the less angry moods he's been in, even though his reactions were indescribable.

"When Tritter and Vogler left you seemed happy."

"I was _relieved_," he corrected her, "they was really throwing off my soap schedule."

"The Monster Truck Rally. You told me _'_Gravedigger never disappoints_' _and you were smiling!"

"I smile at my fellows' stupidity all the time, but it doesn't make me _happy, _just entertained."

"Whatever. Did you find the answer you were looking for?" she asked, her frustration transforming into curiosity.

"You're taking Valium; an anti-anxiety medicine. It's come to my attention that a certain blonde pest can be the cause of such a condition. I, myself, find my stomach churn and with a splitting headache whenever he does his Nancy-boy hair flip."

She couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Seeing her smile, he continued. "The Valium made you tired. The Naproxen did nothing but take away the pain, and you popped the No-Doz to counteract the drowsiness."

She shook her head, not comprehending his suggestions. "So, you're saying it has nothing to do with the drugs that I took?"

He squinted at her in the mirror, but to her it felt no different as if he was turned around and closer to her face. "Jeez, Cameron, you're not usually the dense one of the group. Hmmm. Could be a side effect, though, _I've _never experienced _that_ one before."

She was stumped. "You? Since when do you take…" Thoughts raced in her mind and it hit her, what he was implying. "Wait, are you saying that I-"

"No! Not you, Dr. Cameron. You _always _check the labels on pill bottles before you take them. Especially when you're in a hurry to pack for a nerve-wracking trip with your devilishly handsome boss. I make you nervous," he teased her, "Come on, admit it. You have the hots for me."

Cameron sat in her chair, stunned. "I took _Vicodin_ by _mistake_?"

House dug into his jacket pocket and threw her his newly opened bottle of Vicodin that he commandeered from her earlier. She twisted off the cap and dumped the pills into her hand, counting them. It was all but one short.

"All the cool kids wanna be like me," he quipped. "Why can't they just buy a cane instead?"

"So, the Vicodin made me tired and knocked me out?" she stated, awaiting conformation from him.

"Ding, Ding, Ding! We have an addict!" he said in mock excitement.

"I'm not an addict!"

"Well then, what are you?" he asked, amused.

She frowned and sighed. "I'm tired."

"Drugs do crazy things to you. You witnessed firsthand the effects of Methamphetamines; makes you sleep with stupid people…" he said, watching her reaction as he verbally sliced open her old emotional wound, rubbing salt into it.

"No, I'm tired of _this!_ I'm tired of you screwing me, House!" she blurted.

"No woman's ever said that to _me_ before," he said, winking at her.

"House…" she said, warning him that she was getting angrier. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"The devil made me do it," he said blamefully, referring to Cuddy.

She closed her eyes in frustration and folded her arms, getting ready for no response.

He cleared his throat. "Actually, I want to be," he said, plainly. The nice thing about the truth was that you didn't always have to tell the whole thing, and it was flexible.

Cameron turned speechless. She couldn't tell if he was lying or if he was being sincere, but he face relaxed and she snuggled into the chair.

As he drove on, he remembered how bored he had been, sitting in the back, doing nothing.

"I've been working on _Super Mario Brothers, Level Nine, World Four_ for hours. My PSP's in the front pouch of my backpack, if you want to take a crack at it."

"Uh… thanks," she said hesitantly, surprised at his offer. She fished it out of his bag and started tackling the evil mushrooms and turtles.

House hid a smile and turned on the radio. He'd just taken a huge step by trusting her with one of his most prized possessions, and by accepting, they both took a tremendous step in their friendship as well.

House M.D.

It was near 11:30 when they arrived to town. He sighed in relief, as they drove by the "Welcome to Springfield" sign. The traffic was desolate at first, but became backed up soon, as random people clocked out for their lunch breaks, headed to the nearest fast-food joint.

"Agh!" House growled. "I hate people who drive!"

"I'm pretty sure that's a good 90 of the world's population," said Cameron, her attention never leaving the screen. House ignored her.

"Get outta the way, Grandma! Stupid, senile old people!" he yelled at the elderly female driver in front of them. He sped up as soon as he cleared the old woman who finally turned off onto a side street. Traffic eventually lightened on down the highway, though.

"Where's the freakin' blood bank?" he growled.

Cameron paused the handheld system and looked at the map. "Take a left up here and then a right at the next street." She picked the game back up, and shot another fireball at the enemy.

"I don't see it anywhere," he whined, but shut up when he saw a bright neon sign for a strip club.

"Déjà vu," he read out loud, smiling. "Well, what do you know? It's Cuddy's Midwestern timeshare! Want to go in and meet her _sisters_?" he asked, grinning wildly.

"Yes!" Cameron exclaimed, jumping in her seat.

House was startled by her excitement at his suggestion and stared her down in the mirror. "Seriously?"

Cameron looked up at him and smiled with pride. "I did it!"

"You did what, strip? Want to go in for a reunion? I'm even willing to tell everyone you're married with ten kids, if you want…" he coaxed.

Cameron's excitement rapidly turned into confusion. "Strip? What are you talking about?"

House sighed heavily in disappointment. "Nothing. Never mind," he pouted and turned back to the road.

She looked out the window and watched signs for restaurants fly by. Her stomach growled in response.

"Can we stop and get something to eat?" she asked.

He nodded. "No vegetarian places; I'm a carnivore. You want Italian, Chinese, American or Mexican?"

"There" she decided, pointing out the window to a Chuck E. Cheese located in the middle of a strip mall.

"You're joking," he replied, more like a hopeful statement than a hopeful question.

"Nope," she said, grinning. "I'm starving and you don't have to play if you don't want to."

"I don't eat in places where a grown man dresses like a mouse and kids do unspeakably disgusting things in the ball pools. How about Funbags 'R' Us, instead?" he asked, nodding to the place next to the child infested restaurant.

"Hooters?" she asked in disbelief. "No way, House! This is _my_ vacation, and I'm not eating Super bowl appetizers in a place full of half-naked women being drooled over by fat, sweaty horn dogs. What about the place next to it?"

"Hey, I'm on vacation too! I'm not fat, I don't sweat unless I've been working out, and I don't drool over the waitresses. I donate to their college funds so they can further their educations in exchange for a little show here and there," he tried reasoning with her.

She glared at him, folding her arms.

"Fine," he sighed, giving in, and pulling into the parking lot of the pizzeria Cameron chose. "But I better see some cleavage soon; I'm starting to have withdrawals."

When the minivan came to a stop in the parking lot, Cameron opened the door to catch up with House, who she thought already had left, but he had limped around to the door, and was now blocking her, holding a first aid kit.

"Sit," he commanded, motioning to the open door. She moved to the floor and scooted to the doorframe, letting her legs hand over the edge and onto the pavement of the parking lot.

He threw it case open, pulling out antiseptic wipes and some butterfly bandages. He ran a strong, rough finger over her bump, flinching slightly as Cameron pulled back in another hiss of pain.

"Pretty sure there's no concussion," he reported, peeling the wipe away from it's packaging and running it gently over the bruise, wiping away some dried blood. Then he carefully applied the butterfly bandages, trying not to press too hard.

"Walla!" he said, stepping back and admiring his work. She glared at him, knowing she didn't look any better, and that the bandages would only raise questions in the eyes of people that they pass by.

He wadded up the trash and threw it in the cargo compartment with all of their bags and grabbed his cane, holding out his hand to help her out of the van. She was surprised by his kind gesture, and ended up surprising them both in return by accepting it.

As Cameron closed the door, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window's reflection. She groaned. "I look like a victim of domestic violence."

He looked over at her, grinning. "Just don't point to me when they ask who socked you one."

"You know," he confessed, as he limped towards the door. "It's different to have someone else to worry about besides myself for a change. Maybe a little in a not-so sucky way."

Cameron was rendered speechless. _What's he trying to say?_

"Oh yeah? Maybe I should accidentally drug myself more often," she smirked, grabbing the door and holding it open. "Cripples, first."

He walked past her and turned around before walking in, so that she could see his amusingly raised eyebrow. "Saves me the trouble of slipping something in your drink when you're using the little girls' room."

Cameron smiled as her stomach insisted that she follow him inside.

House M.D.

"So," said Cameron, squeezing a good amount of French dressing on her slice of cheese pizza, "why are you being so, dare I say it, thoughtful?"

House shifted in the booth and swallowed his half-chewed bite.

"Thoughtful? What makes you think _I'm_ paying for this food? This is a dine and dash. Although, now that I think about it, it doesn't really add up in my favor. For me, it's more like a dine and limp and you've got a better chance of not going to jail or washing dishes if you're captured."

"I wasn't referring to the food."

"Is this where things get personal? Because I'll gladly pay for the food to escape this awkward moment of emotion."

She took a giant bite into her pizza. "Too late, that's my question. It was my turn in 22 questions."

He groaned inwardly. _Why'd I have to go and start that?_ he thought with a mental slap. Then, his conscience broke in and reminded him that he was trying to keep her, not drive her away, and the only option he saw was to open up to her, about whatever it was she was asking.

"Ok, for the sake of avoiding the whole, 'You-have-emotions, I-know-you-do, please-talk-to-me-about-them' speech, I'll skip the arguing and just ask you what makes you think I was being…what was it you said? Thoughtful? I think I've heard that word used before, but it had words like "the least" and "never" in front of it, followed by a lot of other hurtful words," he said, swallowing a piece of pepperoni.

"We're at a pizza place," she stated, as if that explained everything.

"Uh huh…you like pizza, so me driving us here was _thoughtful_?" he asked, trying to figure it out.

"No, but you didn't make me go to Hooters," she replied smiling.

Still confused, but not really wanting to discuss it further, he threw in an ounce of sarcasm and tried to steer them off subject. "We can stop back there on the way to the Land of Professional Blood Suckers. You know you want a shirt and a pair of orange booty shorts to make Cuddy jealous."

She chuckled. "Which, translated loosely in Housian, means you want one for yourself."

He put his slice down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "No thanks. If I tried on of those in the store, the chicks would riot. The babes want to sleep with me, and the guys want to be me, but I don't want to be the underlying cause of World War III."

Cameron choke-coughed, which soon turned into laughter. "Yeah, because you're a real Brad Pitt there, House."

"You seem to think so," he retorted, causing Cameron to blush. Even though he hid it, her insult cut into him a little, slicing off a sliver of his ego. "And, _you're_ no Angelina!" he retorted.

"If I was, that would make us married, and that's a thought that definitely would make me want…to…"

House stopped in mid-chew when he looked up at Cameron and noticed her hand shoot to her mouth after not finishing her sentence. He watched in confusion as bolted for the bathroom.

_Must be from the Vicodin_, he thought. _Rookie._

A few minutes later, she shuffled back to the booth, embarrassed, but feeling better.

He couldn't help himself, and he opened his mouth to tease her. "Great job! You really outdid yourself that time. I was especially impressed with the wide-eyed expression and the sprint down the hall."

Cameron glared at him.

"Next time, though, you could've just said that the thought of it made you want to blow chunks, instead of running off to _demonstrate_ it. Ready?" he asked, grabbing his cane and standing up from the table, leaving a couple of bills for the waitress before limping for the car.

Cameron rolled her eyes and followed him. "I was going to say, that it would make me want to rethink the whole idea of adopting kids."

He raised a questionable brow. "You're saying that you wouldn't want kids if you were married to Brad Pitt?"

"No, I'm saying I wouldn't want to adopt them, if it were possible to make them naturally first. And, no, not with Brad Pitt. He's not _damaged_ enough for me," she said, drawing out the word in some sort of playful hint.

She gave him a sly smile and jumped into the backseat of the van, leaving House in a semi-shocked wake behind her. She ever so subtly admitted to wanting to marry him and bear his children. He stood there, taking it all in.

_Wait! _He screamed at himself, _**what**__ children? I don't even want marriage!_ He shook the idea out of his head and climbed back into the van.

House M.D.

Soon, he pulled the Freestar into the driveway of the blood clinic.

Cameron undid her seatbelt and opened the door, turning to House.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," she said.

He smirked, "Yes, Mistress."

Cameron gave him her infamous "whatever" eye roll and jumped from the car, walking up to the building to get their paperwork.

House watched the front door, waiting impatiently for her to come back. He decided time was only going to go slower than he wanted, so he diverted his attention to humming familiar songs. Subconsciously, his mind chose Pink Floyd's _Wish You Were Here, _and the lyrics floated through his mind as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to beat.

…_So, so you think you can tell_

_Heaven from Hell_

_Blue skies from pain…_

He was bombarded by the contradictions that made up Cameron; memories of the past. They started with her kindness toward him; from the simple things she did, like wishing him a happy birthday and giving him a Christmas present, to the more physical ones, like kissing him. Then the pleasantries of his thoughts grew dim as a wave of angry and disheartening ones soon crashed over him, like the things he said to her on their _real_ date, causing his guilt to skyrocket.

He tried to push the negativity out of his head and kept humming. He didn't like how things had been, and he didn't like the way things were, but he wasn't quite sure how to change them without doing something so drastic, like faking cancer or proposing. Then it struck him, and he was shocked when he realized what he was humming, and how it correlated to who he was thinking of.

He stopped instantly, feeling like there might've been a possible deeper meaning to the song.

To top it all off, a soft knock on the passenger window startled him, and he realized that Cameron was now standing next to the van, waiting for him to unlock it. Pressing the power lock, he cleared his throat.

"It's about time; I was just calling Cuddy to tell her to start searching for a new fellow, preferably a brainless blonde, because my other one ran off with the Red Cross's head leech."

"Yeah," she laughed, "_Hubert's_ a _real_ looker."

He snorted, the edge of his mouth curling upward. "With a name like that, how could he _not_ be?"


	11. Look Out the Window, Look Out Below

Chapter Ten

_**Look out the Window**_

_Cameron_

She had popped _Titanic _into the rear seat DVD player earlier and attempted to watch it.

House groaned when he heard the opening music. "You know the ship sinks, right?"

"Thanks House," she said in mock anger, wiping real tears from her eyes. "You just _ruined_ the movie for me!"

He glared at her, incredulously, in the rear view mirror. "I thought you would've seen this a zillion times already, curled up in your cozy recliner with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a double-decker box of Kleenex. You really didn't know the ship plummets in the end?"

Cameron glared at him, his widened blue eyes digging into hers. "I know it sinks. _Everyone_ knows it sank. I'm not stupid, House!"

He pursed his lips. "But you're extremely gullible," he pointed out.

"And, yet, not stupid!" she repeated.

"You didn't know what a Monster Truck was until I introduced you all and _that_ ignorance alone was enough to get you a one way pass the sixth floor. Remember "Turtles-are-in-my-head-and-stealing-my-brain" Jerry?"

"At least _I'm_ nice to him. I know you're the one who keeps makes those tiny clay turtles and sneaks them into his room while he's asleep," she replied, scolding him.

He grinned smugly. "I bought the miniature knives at the hobby store last week. They didn't sell razor-sharp turtle teeth, so I had to improvise by sharpening the tips off of a plastic fork. Pretty artistic, huh?," he praised himself.

Cameron had turned back to the movie. House scoffed at her lack of approval to his brilliant scheme.

"Hey! I thought we were road trip _friends_," she said, drawing out friends in sarcasm. "And whatever happened to me 'ruining' the movie for you…"

"I don't know what'll happen to the characters," she replied.

"He meets her on the-"

"Hey! _Friends_ don't tell their friends what happens during a movie. I want to find out by myself," she stated, bothered by his persistence to annoy her.

He snorted and turned his iPod on, drowning out the sounds of the movie.

Cameron was pretty surprised when he kept his mouth shut while it played on.

As Brock Lovett and his crew discovered the Titanic with their underwater robot, Cameron found herself looking out the window with her thoughts drifting back to her current chauffer.

_Am I really that naïve? Maybe I am. I suppose he does see me as some love-crazed teenager, dying to get her hands on him like a rock star. But I don't hang on his every move. All I've ever done was told him how I felt about him…and kissed him…and insinuated that I wanted to marry him and have his kids, just now."_

She started blushing andher face dropped into her hands, mentally yelling at herself. _What the heck was I thinking, anyway? _

Sighing, she started to reassure herself. _I know__what I was thinking, that's what got me into this mess. Getting married to Greg House; I could only imagine._

If the truth were to be told, she almost _could_ see it. She'd stayed at his house, and waking up next to him would've been the first memory filed under "Perfectly Happy and Content Moments with House"had it not been for the agony he suffered that morning.

_And as far as kids go, if his children are anything like their father, I pity the woman he knocks up! She'd probably be put through hell and back. _Her mind produced a picture of a faceless woman, wincing in pain and yelling at her stomach as some mischievous baby continually kicked at her.

_Demon spawn, _she thought, trying to convince herself that being paired with him for life would be nothing like she imagined. _And their devil of a father would probably grin as his legacy continued to torment the poor woman and maybe even torment her himself, by tripping her with his cane._

_Oh, Cameron, that's ridiculous, _she insisted, shaking those thoughts away.

_Perhaps I'd envy her, _she considered. _Maybe he would be a great and caring father, unlike his own. Some people say that when you have difficult parents, and you become a parent, you're either completely like them, or the complete opposite._

Cameron peered over at House who had been concentrating harshly on the road, but quickly glanced over to see her looking at him. He held her gaze for a second and peered back out the windshield.

_Oh yeah_, she sighed in defeat, glancing down at the floor. _I envy the woman badly!_

_House_

_Not "damaged" enough? How screwed up does this guy have to be? _he pondered, as they pulled back onto the freeway. Moments later, music filled the van, sounding a lot like Enya, a band House stumbled across one time while he was downloading songs for his iPod, but still slightly different. He knew this song all too well from when Stacy took him to see it in the theater. She claimed it was too dark place of a place to recognize him, after he voiced many distinctive reasons why his reputation would be ruined if he was even mentioned in the same sentence.

_This_ was the mother of all chick flicks, and thee best confirmation that another man could recognize as the victimized man of being whipped.

_Titanic, _he thought, groaning loudly. _Maybe if I tell her the ending I won't have to sit for three and a half hours, listening to it._

"You know the ship sinks, right?"

"Thanks House. You just _ruined_ the movie for me!"

He peered into the back seat at Cameron, who's eyes were already teary.

_She's crying and nothing's even happened yet! What's there to cry about, the remains of the ship? Wait a minute, you don't cry over things you don't know about. She's had to have seen this before, it's the only explanation for the sudden outburst of salty streams._

"I thought you would've seen this a zillion times already, curled up in your cozy recliner with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a double-decker box of Kleenex. You really didn't know the ship plummets in the end?"

He received the stink eye, but he bore his eyes into hers, ignoring it. _She has those innocent puppy dog eyes that make you melt whenever they get bigger. I swear they've gotten me so close sometimes to just giving in._

"I know it sinks. _Everyone_ knows it sinks; I'm not stupid, House!"

_No, my little duckling, you're not. Just incredibly sensitive and too trusting._

He pursed his lips. "But you're extremely gullible," he pointed out.

"And, yet, not stupid!" she repeated.

_I know, I know. Let's see…moments of Cameron living under a rock…aha! Gravedigger. How do you breathe and not know who Gravedigger is? _

"You didn't know what a Monster Truck was until I introduced you all and _that_ ignorance alone was enough to get you a one way pass the sixth floor. Remember "Turtles-are-in-my-head-and-stealing-my-brain" Jerry?"

"At least _I'm_ nice to him. I know you're the one who keeps makes those tiny clay turtles and sneaks them into his room while he's asleep."

_Yeah, _he laughed inside, _that was so cool. He literally jumped at the sight of it and screamed like a little girl until the nurses restrained him, one stabbing him, pushing a syringe full of Ativan._

He grinned smugly. "I bought the miniature knives at the hobby store last week. They didn't sell razor-sharp turtle teeth, so I had to improvise by sharpening the tips off of a plastic fork. Pretty artistic, huh?," he praised himself.

Cameron had turned back to the movie.

_Girls, _hescoffed_. They just don't appreciate talent when they see it._

_It didn't hurt him, he forgot about it in a few moments anyway. _He frowned. _And those stupid nurses threw away my artwork! I hate nurses; bunch of gossiping geese. And Cameron; how can she still be watching that? I thought she said since I spilled the beans. Why watch it if you already know what's going to happen?_

"Hey! I thought we were road trip _friends_," he said, drawing out friends in sarcasm. "And whatever happened to me 'ruining' the movie for you…"

"I don't know what'll happen to the characters," she replied.

_Oh, well, I can fix that!_

"He meets her on the-"

"Hey! _Friends_ don't tell their friends what happens during a movie. I want to find out by myself," she stated, bothered by his persistence to annoy her.

_Fine. Whatever, watch you're stupid movie. Just know this: I am not listening to it, _he snorted, turning his iPod on, drowning out the sounds of the movie.

House drove on to the sounds of Queen ringing in his ears. Occasionally, he would peek back at his teary-eyed passenger. One of those times, he saw her face in her handsHe thought about asking her if she was alright, but he reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to care, and chalked it up to the movie's emotional effects on her.

_I don't care about her. I don't give a crap about Cameron, _he chanted, failing to convince himself.

Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody invaded his ears, and he got caught up in the song, almost to the point of singing it out loud. The lyrics captured his full attention and he was completely lost in it's magic.

_I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me…_

His thoughts were suspended after mouthing the words, when he glanced quickly back at her again, only this time, his eyes collided with hers, which seemed to be yearning for him. He held her gaze for a second and peered back out the windshield to escape the warm, fuzzy feelings that entered his stomach.

_That's not true, _he realized, he ran his hand down his face, as if he were trying to wake himself up.

_Oh boy_, he exhaled deeply, staring at the road in front of him. _I'm screwed! _

_**Look Out Below**_

"So," he cleared his throat, "was I right? Did it sink? Did the old lady croak yet? Please tell me, I have to know!"

Cameron reached up and turned off the movie. "Yes, you were right, sank. And yes the-" she was stopped by the discovery he just confessed. "You've seen this _entire_ movie!" she grinned.

He frowned. _Dang it. This better not get around the hospital or I'm recognized as going soft. _

"Did you cry too?" she teased.

"No, there were not water works from the victim; I was forced into it. I just_ had _to let the hooker pick the movie," he said, hitting the side of his head for the "What was I thinking" effect.

She decided to file that information away for future negotiations

"Why were you crying when the movie first started? Nothing happened yet."

She blushed, embarrassed by her preempted tears. "They'd showed a lot of innocent people, and it just struck me how tragic it must've been for them. It was the last time they'd ever see the people that," she glanced in his direction, "loved them."

House was taken off guard from it, but nodded silently.

They had driven for a while when they hit the circled town on the road atlas that Cameron had circled. He handed her the map.

"Where to now, Sacajawea? How many more _moons_ 'til we get there?"

Cameron directed them until they rolled up in front of a tiny cottage-like house, guarded by a maze of wildflowers and willow trees, completed with the tire swing from it's closest branch.

House rolled his eyes. "What the heck? Oh, brother! Who lives here, Snow White?"

Cameron took no notice to his comment, climbed out of the van and jerked it closed, waiting for House to make it out and around it as well. After a moment of hesitation, they started to approach the stone-lined walkway, when a tall blonde emerged from the front door. "Al!"

House was surprised to find that the Ray he had speculated over earlier, wasn't too different from the man who stood before them both.

"Hey Ray!" Cameron exclaimed, throwing her arms around a man who was a little taller than her, causing a pang of jealousy to run through House. He saw that Ray had deep brown eyes that set off his gold highlights, reminding him a lot of Chase.

Ray released Cameron and scanned House over with his eyes.

House stared at him. "_You_ live _here_?"

"Yeah, the house and yard was my wife's design. Hi, I'm Ray Foster," he said, holding out his hand to House, who simply stared at it. He nodded and lowered his arm. "Judging by the extra leg, I'd say that you must be Dr. House."

House smirked, leaning hard onto his cane he placed dead center in front of him. "You'll have to be more specific about the extra leg. Is your judgment based on the "impressive drug-induced" one, or is it just the cane? Of course, I'll deny it either way if you're planning on shooting me."

"Dang it," Ray said, looking down to his khakis and patting his pockets, "I think I left it in my other pants." He looked back up at House. "What were the other two choices?"

House narrowed his eyes at him. "That would be the boner or the wooden leg, but seeing as how you probably left those in your other pants also, I'm willing to shove my cane up your-"

"House!" Cameron shouted with widened eyes.

"You know," Ray said, trying to control his anger, "sarcasm doesn't look very good on you."

House's eyes narrowed deeper. "Neither does that shirt. It's hideous! But like a trooper, you just wear it with such _gay_ pride."

Ray frowned and mentally counted to ten, something his therapist claimed would work to help calm him. So far, it wasn't, so he turned back to Cameron.

"Would you like to come in for a drink or something?" he offered.

"Thanks, Ray, but we're kind of on a tight schedule and we need to keep going," she said carefully, hoping to turn him down easily.

He nodded. "She's ready and waiting for you," he said, handing a set of keys to House. "She's even waxed," he said, leaning toward House. "You're lucky man, she's hot," he grinned.

House looked at him, astonished. "Do you always sell women like they're porn stars when their standing right next to you?"

Cameron slapped House, leaving him to shield his now throbbing arm and raise a curiously shocked brow at her reaction to Ray's inappropriate comment.

"What? No Femi-Nazi shouting about how horrible it was that he just equalized you to Jenna Jameson?" He turned to Ray. "How'd you do that without making her all pissy? I've been saving up some good ones since she went blonde."

Cameron scolded him and slapped his arm harder. "He wasn't talking about me. He was talking about _her_," she said, pointing to a lifting garage door.

House subconsciously held his breath as the gleam of black paint came into view. He could tell by the shape of the tail lights that what he was seeing was something very close to the heaven he claimed he didn't believe in. The chrome cobra snake emblem came into view, along with the word _Shelby _displayed on the rear. Two large red racing stripes ran down the center of the car and up towards the front. He was sure that if he hadn't had his cane, his legs really would've given out on him, sending him straight to the ground.

Cameron smiled at the small sparkle that appeared in his eyes. It was like watching an eight year old boy open presents on Christmas morning, and that was the exact reaction that she was hoping for. It had wonder, excitement, and joy all wrapped up in it at once.

He staggered closer to the garage, his lower jaw hanging a bit low.

_This is a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500!_

Cameron talked with Ray while House gaped over the car as he inspected it closely.

Ray leaned in to whisper to Cameron. "Are you sure about him, Allie? He seems like the complete _opposite _type of guy you would go for."

She watched House start the car with a loud roar, then fade into a full steady purr. Smiling, she turned back to Ray.

"Thanks, but I'm positive. He may seem rough around the edges, but underneath it all, he's just like us. We're all human and everyone has the same fears and insecurities at one time or another. What makes us all different is how we react to them, until we find the few things in life that make us a 'little less miserable'. People like you and I share our feelings, and House," she said, nodding her head towards House, "well, he buries them."

"So, you're aiming for the _opposites attract _theory?" he asked.

Cameron sighed, not really having thought about it.

"I'm not especially sure what I'm hoping for," she confessed. All she knew was that she had never seen House as vulnerable as he was right now, with his emotions practically tattooed onto his face.

He turned it off and limped back over to the two, turning to her, while trying to hide his smile. "Nice ride, but we have to go," he said, starting back to the Freestar.

Cameron looked puzzled. "House, where are you going? We're taking the Shelby," she said, gesturing towards it.

He popped the door to the cargo hold, huffing in frustration. "What? And leave all this behind? No thanks. I need a new pair of boxers after crapping myself over that beauty," he said, half-grinning.

House stood by the door and played his "I'm crippled, I get out of hard labor free card", leaving Cameron and Ray, both wearing looks of disgust, to grab their bags, and haul them to the car. She situated them to fit, closed the trunk, and turned in time to see House with his hand held out for the keys.

She laughed. "What? You wanted to _drive_?" she said, tormenting him, with a smile. "I dunno, House…" she said, leaving him hanging on in suspense.

"What do you want me to do? I won't beg, Cameron," he told her, sternly.

"You could grovel instead," she suggested.

"I don't grovel; it's demeaning. Now, give me the keys," he commanded.

"What's the magic _word_…" she taunted him.

He squinted his eyes. "You're fired."

Her eyes went wide from the shock of his words that flowed so angrily from his mouth. She froze, reliving the last couple of moments and what took place. He grinned and snatched the keys swiftly from the hand she dangled them from.

_Way to go, Cameron_, she thought to herself, turning to Ray.

"We'll be back in a few weeks for the van. Can you keep it in the garage for us and make sure that no one puts any miles on it?"

"No problem, Al," he replied, approaching her for a farewell hug.

House, with his green-eyed monster flaring up, glared at Ray and hit him in the leg with his cane. He let go of Cameron, crying out at the sharp pain to his calf, rubbing it gently. "What the heck?"

"Whoops, must've slipped. New cane polish," he said, innocently blaming the non-existent cleaner. "Sure is slippery," he sneered. Cameron scowled at him, and apologized to Ray, thanking him again.

House pulled the Shelby out of the driveway, peeled out, and flew down the road.

Cameron turned to House. "So, are you happy now?"

"Nope," he said, still looking straight ahead.

"Oh," she said, looking down and then turning away from him, a little disappointed.

He leaned over next to him and grinned slyly. "But I'm a little less miserable."


	12. Back Away From The Glass!

A/N: Sorry if I offend anyone in any chapter and sorry for any OOCness. Here's one of the longer chapters, please let me know what you think!

Chapter Eleven

_**Back Away From The Glass!**_

Their vacation seemed to be working out in House's favor. He had his painkillers, a very smart and sexy woman riding along side him, and in one of the coolest hotrod's he'd ever laid his eyes on. Life was getting sweeter.

The highway paved a long and scenic route for them, showing them sights from flowing green hills to tall yellow wheat fields, among the random billboards and signs indicating signs of city life.

As they drove by, Cameron caught a glimpse of an advertisement for a local adult themed shop in the next town over. She watched as they passed it and took a glance at the back. Not even ten yards from it stood another sign screaming "Repent!"

Cameron laughed at the contradiction and turned to House, wondering if he had seen it. His brow arched high at her over the pair of biker sunglasses he had donned earlier as the glares from oncoming vehicles were blinding him.

She smiled at him until he couldn't take the curiosity anymore.

"What? Do I have something on my tie?" he said, glancing quickly down and back up at her, keeping one eye on the road.

She laughed again, shaking her head. "Since when you wear a tie?"

"Only at those hoity-toity benefit dinners Wilson drags me to. I only go for the cigars and the gambling. Plus, you can't use that as an excuse when I ask you why you're staring at me."

She blankly stared at him.

"You can't tell me it's because you're aroused by my bitterly sarcastic attitude, because that's always been a turn off with everyone. _I'm_ not even moved by it."

Keeping her comments to herself, she took in the moment of normalcy between them, remaining mute.

"Must be the scruff," he said, rubbing the side of his face. "I shave and I go to the prom with Wilson. I stop shaving for two days and suddenly the chicks are all _over_ me!"

She remained reserved, deep in thought. Another couple of minutes of it made House uncomfortably nervous.

"Could you stop doing that? It's really quite creepy in a restraining order kind of way."

"That would make it difficult for me to make your coffee, answer your mail, and cover your clinic hours, treating the patients that annoy you."

"Yes," he nodded, "that would put a damper on my preferred everyday routine. Can't watch the O.C. with sick people sitting next to me, whining about their _widdle boo boos!_" he said, holding up his pointer finger as if he injured it. "Plus, what would Mommy Cuddles do all day if she wasn't running around playing hide-and-seek with me?"

"Gee, I don't know," Cameron said sarcastically, "run the hospital? Check on patients? Maybe be able to sit down and relax for five minutes without trying to hunt you down."

"It's like you were there," he said, falsely impressed.

There was the deadly silence they were both worried about occurring. Neither one of them were sure what to say. Seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes seemed like hours.

"So…" she drew out, her tone laced with hopefulness, "Do you like her?"

His eyebrow shot up again. "What makes you think I _like_ her?"

"I see the way you drool over her, the way you touch her. I think it's safe to say that you've wanted to take her for a spin the first time you laid eyes on her," she said, stating the obvious.

"Are we _jealous_, Dr. Cameron?" he asked, struggling to come up with a different comeback.

She chuckled. "No. I've ridden her once before, but she just doesn't do anything for me. I'm not too impressed by the space limit of her trunk, and she's definitely labeled under my book as high maintenance."

House's eyes went wide, sending wrinkles to his forehead and his brows closer to his hairline. _Oh, for the love of all things holy!_ _Cameron's a…closet naughty girl?!? With adventurous and bi-curious tendencies? This can't be real. Am I hallucinating? It would explain a lot…like that moment in Cuddy's office that they had the other day._

"I've looked her completely over, and believe me, there's nothing wrong with her trunk," he confirmed, smugly.

"Well, not if you don't have a lot to fill it with," she countered.

"I think you and I both know that I don't lack in that department," he grinned, proudly.

"Yes you do!" she exclaimed, "you even threw the other one over your shoulder like a security blanket."

House was completely mystified. "What the _heck_ are you talking _about_?"

Cameron was now becoming as baffled as he was. "What were _you_ talking about?"

He shook his head. "I asked you first."

"Age before beauty!"

His mouth curled in delight. "The Cripple Special Privileges Act states that I don't have to explain myself."

She frowned. "That's the fifth amendment, and it applies to everyone."

He snorted. "Fine, but I still have the advantage of parking closer to the front door of Wally world and the right to whip bad girls with my cane for being naughty."

"You don't do that to _all_ of your dates," she said, remembering how playful they had been with each other at the rally. He had tried to steel her cotton candy and she stole it back, joshing with him about racing him back to her car.

"Only to the ones that I take on dates that are actually _dates_," he replied, flinching at how harsh his words sounded when they came out.

"You mean the ones you have to _pay_ _for_ afterwards?" she retorted, metaphorically hitting him below the belt.

He scoffed at her, angrily. "You _pay_ for them too, just with something other than _money_."

Cameron was stunned. "What's your problem, House?"

"You're pathetic! Cutting down Cuddy, but when it comes to you being the one who's labeled as anything other than 'angelic' or 'innocent', you get all offended and pissy."

"When did I ever say anything derogatory towards Cuddy?" she asked.

House heightened his voice to a feminine squeal, trying to imitate Cameron. "You're always looking at her and touching her. You want to ride her and it makes me all hot and bothered because _I_ want you more…"

"I don't sound like that!" she scolded him.

After a moment in careful thought, her eyes bulged at the realization that he was assuming that she had been talking about her boss…his boss…her boss' boss! She mentally skimmed through the things she had said…

…_you drool over her, the way you touch her…_

…_you've wanted to take her for a spin…_

…_I've ridden her once before…_

…_not too impressed by her trunk…_

She quickly became horribly disgusted, grimacing at each misunderstood statement that was made.

He watcher her face wrinkle in revulsion. "What?"

Her face finally settled into a gentle look of defeat, and she sighed. "I was talking about the _car, House!_"

House's anger dimmed into a guilty frown. "Oh," he said, simply.

She looked out her side window, still hurt by what he said. _Of course, _she reminded herself, _I wasn't exactly very civil to him by saying all of his dates were hookers._

"I do," he stated in a softer than usual voice.

Cameron had forgotten what the question was after the argument started. "What?"

He sped the car up to pass the slower sedan that was inching along in front of them. "The Mustang. I like it."

"Oh, yeah," she said, remembering now why she had ever asked him for his thoughts on it. She opened the glove box and pulled a sheet of pink carbon copy paper out of a black leather case.

"Here's the pink slip and the registration card is in the owner's manual," she explained.

"Nice to know where they are if we feel like loosing a street race or get stopped by the Donut Patrol," he kidded her.

She shrugged. "Do what you want, she's yours now."

House's confusion was blinding his attention from driving and onto her words. He pointed a finger at her. "Hey! You blackmail me once, you get a date, you blackmail me twice…"

She looked at him in all seriousness. "I'm not blackmailing you, House. It's yours, I'm giving it to you."

He didn't believe her. "Did the Oncologist Extraordinaire put you up to this? Because if he did, I'm keeping it out of spite."

"If that's what it'll take for you to keep it, sure, Wilson put me up to it," she said, humoring him.

He squinted at her. "You're lying."

"Yes, I am. Why is it so hard to believe that I would do something nice?"

He glared at her suspiciously. "It's not hard to see you making coffee or remembering my birthday, but giving away a car that's worth more than my place, it just screams ulterior motive. And, to _me_, of all people! You're not even _on_ mine Christmas shopping list."

Cameron shook her head. "It's _not_ blackmail," she repeated. "I don't drive it and it's been locked in that garage for years."

"This Shelby is _yours_?" he said, pointing down at the car to see if he understood her correctly.

"No, it's yours," she demanded. "It was mine, now I'm," Cameron spoke slowly in case he was having a hard time hearing her, "give…ing…it…to….you!"

"Why?"

She threw her hands up in the air. "I need to get rid of it. It was either give it to you or sell it."

"You should've sold it," he song-singed to her, digging into his coat pocket for his Vicodin. He fumbled with the lid and tried to drive at the same time, failing miserably at both. Cameron grabbed them from his hand.

"Hey!" he shouted.

She rolled her eyes and poured two into her hand, holding them out for him to take. "Here," she said, as he reached over and grabbed the pills, dry swallowing them.

"I'm sorry," she apologized; causing House took look at her in confusion.

"I accuse you of being promiscuous, on first dates, no less, and you _give _me your car and now you're _apologizing_ to me?" _This is unbelievable!_

Cameron looked down at her lap. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Ditto," he said, hoping that she knew that he was subtly apologizing.

Their conversation turned back into another awkward silence. The distinct sounds of cars swishing by filled the car, but nothing else.

House cleared his throat, interrupting the peace. "So, why'd you lie?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "_What_? When?"

"You said you never put out on the first date," he said with a half grin.

"How would you know?"

"You forgot about that awfully fast for someone who was so devastated by it for weeks on end. Let me refresh your memory. You blackmailed me into dinner, forcing me to wear a monkey suit where we sat at a table while you quoted Freud to me, quite sexily I might add."

He lowered his glasses to peer over them, and bore his stare into her gaze. "You know all that smart-dead-guy rambling gets me hot, and I was never rewarded for sitting through that dinner with any roll in the hay," he pouted, puffing out his lower lip.

Cameron blushed slightly at the thought, then got angry again.

"I don't put out to guys I work-"

"Did you develop amnesia in the past few minutes? Remember Dr. Skippy Blonde-Stocking?"

"No, what I was going to say, guys that I-"

"Work for? Because that's the Moby Dick of all lies. You _so _would've drug me into your apartment and had your way with me if I had been all romantic and Wilson-like to you," he interrupted again.

Cameron was frustrated, mainly because he wouldn't let her explain herself, and partially because he might've been half-right about the possible ending of their date.

"Will you shut _up_ so I can finish a _freakin_' sentence?" she growled.

He concealed a grin that threatening to form.

_She's so beautiful when she was angry, _he secretly told himself.

She sighed. "I don't get _physically_ _involved_ with people I work with, or _for_, on the first date, especially when said date is trying to indoctrinate me into thinking that _I'm_ the one who's broken and that my reasons for liking them are foolish and just "a need" from one "damaged" person to another."

House's eyes turned to the city limit sign that made it's way closer to them, trying to keep from feeling guilty about their disastrous evening together, which he knew he was ruining even at the time.

The olive drab sign read _Batesville, Mississippi 1 mile._

They had a long way to drive, he realized, and it would be longer with a moody Cameron sitting next to him. _Better think of a way to lighten the mood, _he thought. He searched his brain for a decent distraction when his cell phone went off.

He looked at her. "You gonna get that?"

She picked it up and tried handing it to him. "It's _your_ phone."

He removed his hands from the steering wheel and pointed it at it as if he was showing her something new. "Uh…cripple driving here!"

"Yeah and that somehow disables your hand as well as your leg. Interesting," she scoffed, answering the phone.

"House."

"You know, if you really wanted to have a sexual reassignment surgery done, we have specialists here for that. Would've saved you at least a hundred in gas money," Wilson teased.

Cameron laughed, causing House to turn to stare at her. He loved her hearty, genuine laugh, and was enviously wondering who she was talking to that inflicted her such joy.

"Cameron, I presume," he continued, smiling. "How's the trip going? Any cane-beating death threats to other drivers yet?"

"Only the slow and elderly ones," she said, secretly glad to have someone else to talk to.

"Yeah, he's never liked Sunday drivers. I think he files that under his list of reasons for not being religious."

"Yeah, probably," she agreed, glancing over at House.

"Who are you talking to?" he mouthed. She shook her head, purposely ignoring him.

Wilson contemplated her lack of responses for a moment and chuckled. "He doesn't know you're talking to me does he?"

Cameron grinned at Wilson's ability to pick up on such simple details. "No, I'm sorry, you're going to have to wait until that _condition_ of his clears up. Give him a month or so for the meds to kick in."

_She's trying to get a rise out of me,_House thought, grinning_. Time for me to spoil her fun. _Heleaned over the console.

"Tell Wilson that when he's done talking to my _annoying condition_, that he can call back later and I might tell him about my new car."

Wilson sighed. "Sorry, Cameron, not much gets by him. Nice effort, though. What's he mean _new car? _Please tell me he didn't buy a cardboard box on wheels."

She smiled. "Don't worry, he didn't and tell the _boys_ I said 'hi'."

"I will. Try to _enjoy_ your trip, even if House is being…well…_House_," he encouraged her. "Oh, and Cameron?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah?"

"Call me by my first name. It'll drive him insane."

She smiled, trying to hid it from House. "I will. Thanks, Jimmy."

Wilson chuckled. "Nicely done."

Cameron closed the phone and replaced it on the charger, watching House stare evilly at her. "What?"

"I didn't know you and _Jimmy _we're so close," he sneered.

She shrugged. "We talk."

"Figures," he snorted. "Wilson was always the gossiping girly type in med school. Did you know he took _Cooking_ instead of Woodshop in high school?"

"It landed him a wife, didn't it?"

"Three!" he corrected her, holding up a finger for each one, "and they all left him for being his usual two-timing sorry excuse for a husband."

"I can't believe you! You're his best friend, how can you say things like that?" she asked, astounded by his traitorous comments towards Wilson.

"It's the truth, ask his first wife. She and I actually got along."

Cameron leaned back into her seat. "_That_ explains why it didn't work out."

"She's smoking," he said in surprise, his tone being far from amused.

"If you love her so much, then, why don't you _marry_ her?" Cameron huffed sarcastically, irritated with his lack of concern for his best friend.

House turned to her, angerly. "Because she's been tainted with Wilson cooties," he replied dryly. "Imeant the car, Peewee!"

Sure enough, while a small amount of white smoke seeped from the engine and out back behind them, the _Check Engine _light lit up, causing groans of frustration to emerge from them both.

* * *

House was about to pull over to the side of the road, when Cameron spotted a Shell station down the street. He slowed down as they pulled into the parking lot to find that, not only was it a gas station, but it was a speed-lube station as well, with a garage built onto the other side. They pulled it around and parked it in the back for the mechanics.

They walked up to the yellow and redbrick building and were promptly greeted by the manager. He was about House's height and age, and very athletically built. He had short dark hair and a style that made him look like he came out of a country video. His dark navy blue coveralls were dalmatianed with oil.

"Hey folks," he smiled at them, wiping his hands off with an oil rag and holding it out for them to shake. "The name's Hank."

"Allison," Cameron said, shaking his hand in politeness. She glared at House as he snubbed it. She shook her head in his direction. "And this is…Greg," she said wearily, finding it odd to use his first name.

The mechanic looked at House uneasily, but continued being polite for Cameron's sake. So, is there anything I can help you with?"

Cameron smiled graciously. "Yes, thank you. We need a vehicle looked at. You see, we were going down the highway when…"

House held his cane across Cameron's chest, pushing her back a little. "Why don't you go get me a soda like a good little girl," he said, condescendingly, handing her a dollar bill, "and let the grown ups talk."

"Whose car is it?" Hank asked.

"Mine," they said simultaneously, exchanging confused glances.

He looked at the couple skeptically. "Who's name do you want on the work order?"

"Mine," they repeated at the same time, equally frustrated as the last time.

Hank smiled, endlessly amused. "Who's _paying_ for it?"

Cameron pointed instantly to House. "He is."

Getting into the habit of saying "mine", he assumed it would be the answer to the next answer also. "Mine," he said, kicking himself right after he said it. Accepting that he lost that round, he lowered his head. "Fine," he said, turning to Cameron. "Shoo!" he said, waving his hand back and forth, motioning for her to skedaddle.

Cameron smiled triumphantly and walked to the Coke machine that was sitting inside the waiting room.

House grinned slyly, turning back to the mechanic. "Put it under _Cameron_."

* * *

Cameron fed the dollar into the machine and cursed at herself for forgetting to ask House what flavor he wanted. She shrugged. _He didn't specify, so he'll drink whatever I get him_, she thought.

She pushed the button labeled _Vault_ and waited. The mechanism inside the machine moved, but no soda can fell from it. She pushed it again, but it was already demanded another dollar. She tried the other ones, but she still ended up with nothing. She sighed and pinched her nose, closing her eyes as she felt a migraine coming on.

"_Did it swindle you too_?"

Cameron spun around to see a good-looking, clean-cut mechanic standing in the doorway behind her, smiling coyly at her. "Uh…yeah," she said, stepping away from the machine. "I'm pretty sure it should've dropped a can after I paid for it."

His smile widened. "Yeah, it does that sometimes. Here," he said, approaching the machine. He put both hands on the top of the machine, pushed it back and let it fall back forward. The jolt of the cooler hitting the floor loosened one of the cans and it fell to the opening.

Cameron gasped in amusement as the handsome stranger bent down and picked up the can, handing it to her. "Is this what you wanted?" he asked, "because I can shake it until it drops your favorite."

She laughed. "No, actually, this is what I needed. Thank you."

He held out his hand. "I'm Jeff, by the way."

She took it into her own and shook it. "Allison, pleased to meet you."

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked.

"No, actually, we're from New Jersey," she said, confirming his theory.

"You didn't come alone?" he asked, his tone laced with hopefulness.

"Yes…no…well, I'm here with someone"she explained, pointing out the window to the other"grownup".

He grinned wickedly at her. "So, you're on vacation with your dad? That's cool."

Cameron smiled. "Oh, no, he's not my dad. He's my…" she stumbled for the right word, "boss."

"Your boss? What do you do for a living?" he asked, arching a curious brow.

"I'm a doctor at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," she said proudly.

Both of his brows shot up getting lost in his bangs. "A doctor? Wow!" he exclaimed. "Pardon me, ma'am, but I didn't know doctors could be so, beautiful."

Cameron blushed. "Uh, thank you."

Just then, the roar of their Mustang echoed throughout the garage, attracting their attention, as Hank, pulled it slowly over one of the oil pits. "Holy Mother of God!" he said, looking out into the garage, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back. "That's a '66 Shelby Mustang GT500! Almost in mint condition," he said, whistling.

Cameron smiled. "Actually, it's a '67. It's got scoops over the rear corner panel windows. The '66just hadthe glass," she told him, remembering her husband teaching her about it.

Jeff stared at her wide-eyed. "Wow," he said, "you sure know a lot about 'er for being a doctor!"

"I used to tinker around with it every once in a awhile," she confessed, brushing it off as no big deal.

"She's _yours_?" he asked.

She found this quite amusing. For some reason, no one was able to comprehend that a woman could own a car like that. "Well, she _was_…" she said, as her pager went off. _Why didn't I turn this off? _She wondered.

Peering down at it, she frowned at the message displayed on the screen.

_Where's my caffeine, woman? -H_

She sighed and pointed to the impatient cripple outside the door. "Now, she's _his_."

Jeff's face took on a look of worry, causing Cameron to laugh. "Don't worry, he's got a 'vette he takes great care of too." She started walking towards the door, and noticed he was following her.

"Are you sure about him?" he asked, holding the door open for her as they walked outside. "He doesn't seem like the type to be…nice."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, for worrying, but I promise you that the car will be fine."

"Actually, I was more worried about you," he said, shyly smiling, staring at his steel toed work boots. "He doesn't seem too friendly towards you."

"I trust him," she assured him. "He may be a bit rude, but I've put up with him for three years, I think I can handle him."

House stood across the parking lot, watching as a young grease monkey shamelessly flirted with Cameron. He noticed that she was holding his soda, and wondered how long it would be before the idiot would let her leave.

After another minute of flirtatious smiles and continuous blushing, he decided to rid of the little pest himself. _His _way.

He limped across the graveled parking lot and swiftly approached Cameron, hooking his cane around the arm that held his soda; he pulled it toward him and grabbed the can from her. "Thank you, _sweetheart_!" he said, stressing the term of endearment.

They both stood in surprise at his choice of words, but Cameron chose not to read too deep into it.

He carefully popped the tab up a little on the top of the can, just enough to let the air out without opening it fully and reached into his pocket. He pulled a butterfly knife out flipped it open, stabbing the can at the bottom, shot gunning it's contents. When he swallowed the last drop, he flipped the knife closed again and returned it to his pocket. Then he placed the can between his palms and violently pressed it together, crushing it as flat as a pancake and handed it to Jeff, while giving him the evil eye he had wasted on Foreman the other day.

Unlike the result he'd gotten before from his newest wicked stare, Jeff's response was the best. He could swear that the kid was so scared that he was going to pee his pants, until Hank, who had been entertainingly watching the whole confrontation from the garage door, yelled for Jeff to fetch him an oil filter. Jeff nodded to Cameron and went back inside.

Cameron folded her arms. "Should I sit inside while you mark your territory?"

"If anyone lets him near _my _car, I'll castrate them both," he threatened, shuffling to the door and holding it open. As Cameron went to walk through it, he stopped her with his cane. "Cripples first."

She glared at him.

"I got a leg _thing_," he said, grinning.

* * *

A half-hour later, Hank came back in to tell them that the car was finished and ready to roll again. He hesitated, and cautiously handed the keys to House. He looked him in the eye. "Take care of her," he said winking, his gaze shifting back to Cameron.

Cameron looked at them, in puzzlement, but spoke up when she realized they were given no paperwork. "Hank? How much do we owe you?"

Hank smiled and slapped the air with his hand. "Don't worry about it. You deserve it! It's the least we can do to help you out," he said, turning back into the shop.

Cameron stood in shock, and then turned to House. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that you were dying of Aids and that the "Make-A-Wish" Foundation, that's me, we're on our way to DisneyWorld," he smirked.

Her eyes grew wide and she slapped his arm. "You did not!"

"Hey!" he said, grabbing his arm. "Cripple Abuse!"

* * *

Soon they were back in the Mustang and on their way. As they drove down the road, the _Check Engine _light flickered and the white smoke that haunted them once before poured from the hood, ten fold.

"Dang it, Cameron! What's the big idea?" he shouted.

Cameron was taken aback by his accusation. "Me? I didn't make it smoke like that!"

He leered at her. "No wonder you were trying to get rid of it, it's a trophy on the outside, but its insides are all rusted and ugly! You're worse than "Honest" Abe, the guy who owns that car lot on William Street who allegedly doesn't turn back the odometers on his vehicles," he snapped.

She was just as upset as he was, and it showed as she buried her face in her hands. "Take it back to the shop then," she suggested.

He groaned and turned the car around, heading back to the shop that supposedly fixed it, knowing the outcome wouldn't be a good one.


	13. There She Blows!

Chapter Twelve

_**There She Blows!**_

House and Cameron watched in suspense through the lounge window as Hank thoroughly poked around underneath the car. He carefully removed a piece from it and resurfaced to the main floor of the garage, heading back towards them.

He somberly walked through the door, wiping off a patch of caked grease from the metal part. "Mister Cameron?"

Cameron stood to acknowledge him, but then halted to a stop as she let his words sink in. _Mister? _She glared disbelievingly at House, who shot her back a look of pure innocence.

"Must've been a typo," he whispered to her, approaching the technician.

"Give it to me straight, Doc! What the damage?" he asked, mocking the patients the came to him all the time with their petty little problems.

Hank gave him a tight-lipped frown. "I'm afraid it's serious. You're going to need a new gasket. The part itself will be a little tough to come by. You might have to order it, and unfortunately, all of the tranny shops I know are closed right now. You may have to stay overnight."

Both doctors exchanged glances. House turned to Hank, and sighed. "So, where's the closest resort from here?"

Hank chuckled. "Well, it ain't the Ritz, but there's a Best Western down the road about a block away," he pointed out.

"Can you order the gasket for us?" Cameron asked.

He nodded. "I think I can, but it could take a while. You might have to wait on Disneyland for the time being," he said, as if he were breaking devastating news to her.

House smugly turned with a straight face toward Hank. "Shucks," he said, snapping his fingers and cupped a hand on the side of his mouth, stage whispering, "She's been _dying_ to ride those twirling teacups and meet the mouse with her sugar daddy. Helps to satisfy the needs she gets that stem from those pesky "Daddy" issues." He looked behind him and into Cameron's horrified expression, still talking to Hank, "She may be a gold-digger," he said wistfully, "but she's _mine_."

His somewhat pleasant innuendo was not lost on her, but she was too embarrassed to think about what he had just said.

She narrowed her eyes. _You want to dance, old man? _She challenged him with her eyes. _Fine, I'll take it from here! _She turned and smiled at Hank.

"Actually, Hank, we're on our way to New Orleans to help with disaster relief because _Greg_ here," she said, smacking an astonished House on the back, "took time out of his _busy_ schedule of reading to sick little cancer kids and sponge bathing the elderly to do this, because he _cares_ so much about those poor homeless people," she said, making sure to really stress the word care while she eyed House.

_One point for Cameron!_

"I do!" he claimed in mock seriousness. "But you know what's even more amazing, is that _Allison _here let down all of her loyal boyfriends, I mean, _clients,_ by throwing all her clothes back on and skipping town, insisting to come along with me."

_And House scores a point, making them tied._

Her jaw dropped and she didn't seem to notice that a couple of the technicians had walked into the room and heard House's jest, including Jeff. "At least _they_ pay _me_! I bet the last time a girl paid you for anything, it was a last resort to get you to keep your pants _on_!"

_Cameron-2, House-1_

"You know, you could've kept your money. I knew _you_ wouldn't be able to handle my _gynormous_-"

"So!" Hank said, turning to Cameron, praying for House to not finish that sentence. "Can I get you a phone book so you can contact the motel?"

_Cameron-2, House-2. _Tied. And they'd have to finish the burn competition later.

"Yes, thank you," she said, blushing when she discovered the guys that heard the whole conversation and followed him over to his desk where he handed her the yellow pages and walked back over to her male companion.

"What?" House said, noticing the quizzical look that he was getting from the other males. "I was talking about my _wallet_!"

The other techs walked away, leaving them to talk.

"You know," Hank said, nudging House, "if you feel up to it, there's a hotel with fantasy suites across town."

He frowned at him and dug into his pocket for his Vicodin. "Thanks, but you're not my type. Mainly because you have testicles, and a cactus growing out of your face." He dry swallowed two at once. "Scruff's not a big turn on for me."

Hank shrugged. "It must be for _her_," he said, nodding towards Cameron. "She's awfully sweet on you, as much as you two bicker like an old married couple. What's keeping a stud like you all penned up from the rodeo?"

House held up his cane. "It could be because I'm crippled, her boss, or the fact that she's more than half my age…take your pick."

"Well, you seem pretty protective over her, even for an employer. Jeff seemed confident that he stood a small chance, until you introduced yourself," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Good," House stated, "he doesn't deserve her."

"Sounds like you respect her, too. I reckon none of us deserve her," he said, smiling sadly at him.

House was about to retort with something offensively sarcastic when he overheard Cameron talking to the desk clerk for the motel.

"Hi, I'd like to reserve two rooms please…yes, I'll hold," she said, tapping her foot impatiently. The sound of it reminded House a lot of Cuddy's heels clicking against the hospital's tile floors.

"I'm still here…how much? Do you take out-of-state checks?" she asked, hopefully. Her eyes went wide. "Could you hold on for a moment?" she asked the clerk. She put her hand over the mouthpiece of her cell phone.

"They said they've had problems with out-of-state checks and they don't accept them anymore, but that's all I have on me!" she panicked, looking to House for a solution.

He sighed and dug into his back pocket for his wallet. Fishing it out, he unfolded it and pulled out his credit card, sailing it across the room to her. "Tell her to keep it on file in case I'm in the mood for some freaky college co-eds later on," he said, winking at her.

Cameron looked at him in disgust, but read off his credit card information to the woman on the other line. She thanked her and gave the phonebook back to Hank. "Thank you," she said.

She also handed House his card back. "Thanks to you, we have a place to stay for the night, until we can figure this whole car thing out."

"I told you we should've taken the Freestar," he said, rubbing her face in it. Cameron was not impressed, and proved it by heading out to the garage.

House watched her as she sought out the pretty boy she'd talked to before and chattedwith him for a moment. The preppy mechanic opened the trunk for her, letting her remove a couple of her bags. Jeff grabbed the heaviest looking one, which was House's camouflaged duffel, and helped her.

They conversed for another moment and he pointed to a truck that was parked nearby. She smiled her genuine smile at him and they walked over to it, throwing the bags into the back. _The punk was offering her a ride to the motel_, he scoffed. But there's no way that she'd leave House behind.

_Right?_

After the sarcasm he threw at her earlier, he didn't want to take any chances. He broke for the door and opened it, yelling for her. "Allison!"

Cameron's attention to Jeff shattered as she turned her head to find House calling for her. She groaned and looked back at Jeff. "You know, I'll have to take him with me," she warned him, half-smiling.

He looked hesitantly over to see him glaring at him evilly again. He took a deep breath. "You're _positive_?"

Her pager vibrated rapidly at her waist and she pulled it up to read it once more.

_Wild monkey sex awaits you down the street. Ditch the weasel - H_

She laughed, looking at House out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah, I'm positive."

Jeff nodded. "Okay, we'll throw the rest of your things in the back and we can head out in a minute. Let me go wash up," he said, heading back for the garage.

She slowly strutted over to where House was standing and narrowed her eyes at him. "Wild monkey sex, huh?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I don't know many motel cable listings that don't offer Animal Planet?"

Somewhat disappointed, she spun on her heel and walked back to the truck, shaking her hips. He watched as she slowly threw a long, flexible leg over the tailgate in her low-riding jeans and sat down in the bed of the truck Indian style. He gulped and turned around to head for the Mustang to grab his backpack, when he realized all the mechanics in the garagehad watched the show, also.

He scowled angrily at them, knowing they had the same provocative thoughts in their heads that he had just experienced in his. As they noticed the daggers shooting from his eyes, they scrambled apart and hid around the garage, pretending to be working on something.

He popped the trunk, grabbed his bag and headed for the parasite's 4x4.

Jeff nervously climbed into his pickup while House got in and sat there, studying him. Trying his best to ignore him, he stuck his head out of his side window and shouted "Hang on!" to Cameron. They pulled out of the parking lot and down the street.

As the truck picked up speed, it created a windy breeze that made Cameron's long brown hair fly freely. House pretended not to notice, but Jeff caught his interested eye as it settled on her once more.

"She likes you, you know," he said, feeling let down.

He huffed. "She better, otherwise she should've said no when I asked her to marry me last week!"

Jeff's jaw dropped and he had a hard time concentrating on the road. "You're…_engaged_?"

"Yeah," he lied, "so quit undressing my fiancée with your puny little brain!" he scolded, veiling his amusement.

"But…but she…I didn't see a ring on her…" he stammered.

"They're being sized, now, pay attention and drive or I'll shove my cane so far up your rear end that you'll be hackin' up splinters for months!"

Jeff drove on in silence and found himself incredibly relieved as they approached the motel. He let the truck run while House hobbled from the cab to help Cameron from falling out of the back. As they pulled their bags from the bed, Cameron was about to walk up to Jeff to thank him, but he had already driven off, leaving them both in a cloud of sand and dust.

She frowned in confusion. "I wonder what that was all about?" she said, mainly talking out loud to herself.

House shrugged, grabbing as many bags as he could limp with. "Who cares? The vermin is gone, now we can relax," he said, dragging them through the front door and into the lounge with him.

She paused, sensing the irritation in his voice. "You said something to him, didn't you?" He ignored her.

"Hey!" he said, focused on trying to get the attention of the curly redheaded teenager at the desk that was talking with 'a customer'.

She looked up and held up her pointer finger to him, signaling for him to wait. "Yeah, but they won't end up together. He's, like, decades older than her and she's _way _too good for him," she said, gossiping to someone on the other line.

"You said _something _to him, House! No one speeds out of here like that for no reason," Cameron pressed. Ignoring her was becoming harder to do when he had nothing to change the subject to.

"We need rooms!" he snapped at the gossiping airhead. While chopping on her gum, she mouthed the words "I'm on the phone" to him and continued to babble on.

"House!" Cameron demanded.

Fed up with the annoying girl at the desk's attitude, he reached over the desk and pressed down on the phone's hook, instantly ending her call. She looked at him in astonishment and set the receiver onto the cradle. "What'd you do that for, Grandpa?" she snapped.

"Because I'm having porn withdrawals and I need to see someone naked in the next five minutes or I'm going to psychotically snap and turn this into the Bates Motel," he said in a dangerously low voice. "Now!" he shouted sternly. "We have a reservation."

"Name?"

"House," he replied, impatiently.

Unfazed by his threats, she skimmed the reservation log sheet and pulled out a single set of keys. "Room 221."

He grabbed the key and made for his room, outside and down the hall.

Cameron waited for a moment, and then noticed that the woman was about to pick up her conversation where it left off when she grabbed for the phone.

"Excuse me," she said. "Where's the key to the _other_ room?"

The girl stared at her like she was crazy. "What other room?"

Cameron put her bag down and moved closer to the counter. "I called earlier and reserved two rooms," she explained.

Irritated by all the work Cameron had her doing, she ran through the list again. "Nope. Reservation for House, booked one room."

She sighed. "There's been a misunderstanding. Do you have anymore available?" she asked.

She searched the log and forced an irritated smile. "Nope, all full. Have a nice night!"

Cameron gulped. _There's no more rooms available. Oh, no! I'm going to have to share one with House! He's going to go Psycho on this place_, she thought.

"Thanks," she said, meekly as she gathered her bags back up and went in search for House's, and as of now, her room.


	14. MiniChapter: No Room In The Inn

A/N: If you're enjoying this, you might also like my other Hameron story, Nowhere Man!

Disclaimer: If I owned House and Cameron, they'd never leave the bedroom! (After they're married, of course. he he he)

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

_**Mini-Chapter: No Room In The Inn**_

The screen filled with pornographic images and the mixed sound of obscenity and cheap seventies music echoed throughout the room. He pulled out the bottle of scotch he had cleverly packed and laid down on the bed, watching the plot deprived smut in front of him.

As he took a large swig straight from the bottle, a sharp knock was heard at the door. He mumbled as he turned the station over and drug himself off the bed to answer it. He cursed silently when he discovered that this was the only motel he'd ever stayed at without a peephole installed into the door. Opening it, he found Cameron timidly standing in front of him, along with her bags at her feet.

He grinned. "I didn't know the hookers here made _House_ calls. I must say, they look awfully similar to one I remember out east…"

"Can I please stay with you?" she pleaded, even though she knew that she didn't have much of a choice.

He squinted at her. "If I said "no", would it make a difference?"

"Not really."

"Well, since you asked so _nicely_…No!" he said, studied her nervous body language. "What's wrong with your accommodations? Stained sheets?"

"Uh…no," she said, hesitantly.

"You _want_ them to be?" he asked, grinning mischievously, waggling his eyebrows at her in a suggestive manner.

"Are you propositioning me, Dr. House?"

He looked at her skeptically. "Oh, _you'd_ like that, wouldn't you?"

She noticed a small sway in his stance and frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"Nearly," he huffed. "I was well on my way until I was rudely_ interrupted_."

"Look, I wouldn't be standing here, keeping you from…well, your booze or whatever it is you're doing, if I had any other option available."

"Aww! Cameron misses her sarcastically miserable boss. That's sweet. Now go home, little stray duckling!" he quipped, shutting the door.

He retreated back to the bed and watched the current channel that he switched it to; waiting to see what was on, while ignoring his conscience who was hounding him to go check on her. He took another drink of alcohol, attempting to numb his mind in the hopes of silencing his guilt. Ten minutes went by and he had downed the entire bottle.

_Good thing I packed more, _he thought, reaching into his bag. Much to his dismay, when he pulled his arm back out, he was empty-handed. _Crap! I must've left it in the car_, he whined. Then he remembered that Cameron had bought another bottle of wine before they left home. _Maybe she has something I can drown in._

Not knowing what room was hers, he figured yelling was the easiest, for him, way to find out. He yanked the door open to call for her, when something heavy fell onto the carpeted entryway of his room, and was accompanied by a loud and painful moan. As he glanced down at his feet, he discovered the thump that was heard was Cameron's head, which now laid under him, her hair feathered out behind her.

He stood there, expressionless for a moment, as the sight of her laying there reminded him of a hallucination he had about her after he'd been shot. She lay delicately placed on a cold steel table, vulnerable and ready for him. He controlled her, any move that was made was made because he wanted to. He wanted to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin, and to be overwhelmed by the voluptuous smell that she left with him in her wake.

The thought of simply disrobing her stirred the feelings that he had for her that he so desperately tried putting an end to. As his body began to respond to his thoughts, he immediately pushed them out of his mind, and considered taking a very _long_ and _cold_ shower.

"Jeez, that smarts," she said, gently rubbing the back of her head, yet still making no effort to move.

"Any reason you chose to seek refuge on my patio doorstep?" he inquired.

"It sure beats the alternative," she said, shrugging.

"Which is?"

"The parking lot," she said, struggling to sit up.

"You _really_ have no room? You're not just saying that so I'll take pity on you and let you in?"

"I swear to you, I have nowhere to go," she begged.

"On what?"

"The Bible?," she said, standing to her feet, dusking the butt of her jeans off.

"That's perfect…except that it means _nothing_, since you don't believe in God," he smirked. "Try again."

"Chase's hair?"

He snorted, "As impeccable as it seems, and though it rarely happens, it _does_ have it's flaws on certain days. Strike two."

She sighed exhaustively. "I swear on the notion that I'm practically in love with you and you couldn't give a crap about how I feel."

His lips tightened against each other. "Sorry, access denied," he said, shutting the door.

"Wait!" she exclaimed in puzzlement. "_What_ part of that was _wrong_?"

He thought for a moment.

"You said "notion", but I have it on good authority that it's a fact instead of a mere idea," he pointed out, noticing that she was becoming more exhausted by the second, "But, because I'm such a _nice _guy, I'll grant you access for correctly choosing half of the right answer."

"What's the other right half?" she asked.

He suddenly felt nervous and uncomfortable in telling her the complete truth. "Do you want in here or not?" Cameron became immediately silent.

He held the door open for her to pass. "Welcome to House's House of Hormonal Hoopla," after a confused look from Cameron, he shook his head, "it's _my_ room, I can name it what I want. Now, upon entering my domain of testosterone, you may find yourself subjected to, at _least _five out of the seven deadly sins," he warned her, closing the door.

"I'll survive," she said, walking further into the room, dragging her suitcases behind her. She stopped and glanced at the TV screen. "What porn? House, this is Tomb Raider, not Girls Gone Wild."

He shrugged and sat on the end of the bed. "Close enough."

Cameron smiled weakly and tossed her bags into a pile and gently sitting on the edge of the bed.

House watched the screen as she sat at the head of the bed and pulled a phone book from the nightstand. "I'm starving. Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Yup," he said, not looking away.

"Am I buying?"

"Yup," he replied.

She nodded and dialed the number for a local pizza place. She paused in mid order to confer with House on toppings.

"No pickles," he stated firmly.

Cameron looked at him with question and hung up with the pizzeria.

"What? _Pickles_? Why would anyone put pickles on pizza?"

He shrugged. "Why would they put pickles on Reubens? It's one of those unexplainable PPTH cafeteria mysteries like, what's the mystery meat in the goulash and what is SPAM? Although, I heard through the start of the infamous nursing grapevine AKA Wilson, that, Helga, the lunch lady with the unibrow and faint five o'clock shadow, does some pretty disgusting things with my food, especially to the pickles she puts on my sandwiches that shouldn't be there."

Cameron chuckled, her face contorted in disgust. "That's gross."

"Imagine what she does to your salads," he smirked.

The thought of it made Cameron shudder. "Thanks. I'm now scarred for life and can no longer think of Chicken Caesars the same way now. There goes my diet."

He scoffed at her comment. "What diet? You're as skinny as a twig. If a soft breeze blew, you'd be carried away and go flying down the street. Are you anorexic? Bulimic?"

"Are you nosey? Insensitive?"

"Both," he said, "but I asked you first and you're evading the question. Besides, why ask questions you already know the answer to?"

"Good point." she countered. "Why are you?"

Her narrowed an eye at her. "Are you saying I know everything again? I already told you a million times, Cameron, I'm not God. God's not a cripple."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's God. He can either heal people or kill people. The only way he'd be walking around carrying a stick is if he were planning on beating someone with it. Like a terrorist. Or me."

"You're not a terrorist, House. Well, not one that the FBI's after, anyway" she assured him.

"Why does everyone think I terrorize people? I don't hate everyone, there's just only a certain people I like," he said.

"Like me?"

He teetered his head from side to side while deciding. "I tolerate you."

She nodded. "Wilson?"

"I tolerate him too."

She huffed. "How about Mr. Howell?"

"Was he the guy who barfed all over Nurse Ratchet's new shoes?"

"No, the crippled man who came into the clinic the other day."

"I think _I_ was in the clinic the other day," House said, thinking back. "How do you know it wasn't me?"

"Because he _chose_ to show up there, you we're forced," she said, matter of factly.

"Touché. Wait! You mean Quasimodo the hunchback?"

She sighed, her words oozing sarcasm. "You're so _tactful_, House."

"It's a gift. I hope he falls down more flights of stairs in his lifetime!"

"Way to wish the best for someone," she said, still not sure if he actually liked the guy.

"You have to admit, he was _endlessly_ _entertaining_." he beamed.

She glared at him. "He smacked my butt with his cane and kept calling me Sweet cheeks!"

"No he didn't," he protested.

"You were there, House. You even _told _him to do it!"

"He didn't remember it like that."

"Of course he didn't! His memory relapsed every five minutes! He'd blink and shake my hand, introducing himself as if we just met!"

Surprisingly, House let out an almost genuinely sincere laugh that startled her. "Believe me, it was a _lot_ more entertaining when I got him to do that to Foreman!"

The hysterical image of a flabbergasted Eric Foreman flooded her mind and she lost her ability to breathe as she gasped for air from giggling so hard.

* * *

After they ate, Cameron found herself to be more tired than she expected. She grabbed a pillow from the bed and dropped to lay on the ground.

"Do you have a floor fetish I'm not aware about? Everywhere you stay, you drop and cuddle up to it. You do that at home, too?" he asked in amusement.

"You have a "leg thing" remember? You take the bed," she offered.

He patted the bed, motioning for her to occupy the opposite half. "I don't plan on sleeping a whole lot tonight. Feel free to befriend the bed and talk about the carpet behind its back if you and the floor are having a falling out."

She slowly crawled from the floor and tiredly climbed into the bed, snuggling under the comforter. House gave up on the idea of drinking anymore for the night and flipped over to one of his favorite episodes of Spongebob Squarepants, in which Spongebob contracted a case of "The Suds."

He recalled the first time he had seen it was at his place one night when Wilson came over to lecture him about something or another. He tried to remind himself to "diagnose" someone in the clinic the next day of having "The Suds" to get a rise out of Cuddy, but he forgot when a new case came up.

"They're a lot alike. You think Cuddy would take it the wrong way if I called her "Dr. Krabs?" he asked Cameron. As he looked over to her for a reaction, he found that she was sound asleep, curled up under the mass of sheets.

"Cameron?"

The only response he got was the soft sound of steady breathing. He suddenly lost interest in the cartoon and turned it off, limping over to Cameron's unconscious body. He leaned over and stroked a few strands of her hair away from her eyes and pushed them back behind her ear. The back of his hand gently brushed the side of her cheek and his body started to tire as well, his eyelids feeling heavier than before.

He walked back around to his side of the bed and climbed under the blankets with her, deciding to just rest his eyes for a few minutes. Before he joined her in her soft, steady breathing pace, he drew in one last calming breathe and whispered to her.

"Goodnight, Cameron."


	15. The City's Been Leveled

**_A/N: I had a dry spell, but I'm good now. Hope you enjoy the new chapter! Chapter 15 coming soon!_**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

_**The City's Been Leveled**_

House's eyes flew wide open, which he regretted immediately, having forgotten to turn the lights off before he passed out. His leg yanked him harshly from the bout of sleep he never really intended to take. Pain ripped through the remaining muscle in his thigh, causing the rest of his body to stiffen tightly, as well. He grabbed at the scar tissue and kneaded it, hoping to ease the pain. Hung over or not, he was determined to find his pills.

His body had sent a hard jolt through the mattress, awaking Cameron. At the sound of the agonizing hiss he expelled through his clenched teeth, she quickly crawled to the end of the bed and leaned over his backpack, fishing out his pills once more. As she held two of them out for him, their eyes fixed on each other's in a rare moment of pure and saddened understanding. Cameron saw the heartbreaking misery in his eyes and it killed her inside. She didn't want to change him, she just wanted to help him and she kept telling herself that there's nothing wrong with wanting to cure someone of their pain, especially something to this excruciating extent. 

Breaking the shared stare, he took the pills and continued to try to rub the pain away. He laid his head back against the headboard and then looked at Cameron. There was something faintly in his eyes, a spark that she'd never seen before, but she had a pretty good idea what it was. It was almost as if he were pleading. And then it hit her.

He was begging for relief. 

He hid it well, of course, but a person's eyes never lied. Unsure of what action to take, she discreetly nodded and rolled off of the bed in search for a warm compress.

She returned to him, this time, slowly laid it over his leg, letting his skin adjust to the near-scalding heat of the washcloth. He recoiled a bit, but gradually relaxed as his leg adjusted to the towel's warmth. Neither one of them said a single word as she kneaded his agitated limb until his groaning turned to light breaths and she was sure that his meds had kicked in. His head fell back into his pillow and he fell back at rest.

Sensing that she was no longer needed as a masseuse, she began contemplating whether or not to keep sleeping in the bed next to him, or taking the chair. _Although_, she thought, _there's always a chance that I could end up kicking him in my sleep or something_. _I better take the chair in the prevention of making his leg feel any worse._

She reached to grab her pillow, when she felt House's strong hand grab her, his long piano playing fingers wrapped themselves protectively around her forearm. Instinctively she started to pull away, startled by his sudden movement, but became instantly amazed as she began to feel him tugging on her arm, trying to bring her closer to him. She opened her mouth, feeling obligated to say something, but shut it instead, not knowing really what to say to him. Surrendering, she leaned in closer to him and he brought his lips up to her ear. 

"Cameron…" he finally spoke, his eyes still comfortably shut. The faint smell of scotch enveloped her as the warmth of his breath sent chills down her spine, rippling throughout the rest of her body. Her mind was so clouded by him that she was unable to think logically.

"House?" she whispered in hopeful anticipation. _Is he even awake? Maybe he's talking in his sleep, _she considered.

As he let another warm breath shower her ear, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and he could feel goose bumps form under his grip and spread rapidly across her delicate skin.

"Turn off the light."

Cameron's heart sank as her anticipation turned to disappointing as the words fell from his lips. She looked at him incredulously. He smirked, opening one eye under an arched brow.

_I should've seen that coming, _she scolded herself. _Maybe Chase and Foreman were right. Maybe I'm beating an emotionally dead horse. _She gave him a sad smile, trying her hardest to not cry from getting her hopes up, especially in front of him. She reached over beside the bed, turned off the lamp, and slid back under the sheets.

She turned over on her side with her back to him and sighed deeply. She closed her eyes and fought to fall back asleep. 

After a moment of attempting to drift off, Cameron felt House stir, as he turned over onto his side as well, and suddenly felt something crawling across her left temple. It paused and then ran across it again. She watched for it out of the corner of her eye and, though it never returned, she knew it had been his hand softly stroking her face. 

House heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He settled comfortably next to her and slyly snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her body up against his. Cameron's eyes shot open in surprise and her body stiffened. _Is he __**holding**__ me? she wondered. Greg House is __**cuddling**__ with me? _She quickly weighed the chances to this moment being a statistical 1 in a non-existent chance and settled on the decision to milk it for what it's worth and worry about it later.

When she didn't try to escape his powerful hold on her and seemed to gradually relax into it, he smiled to himself. _Who cares if I enjoy this? She can't see me,_ he said, grinning like a jack o' lantern.

In no time at all, they both fell into the most comforting sleep than they'd ever thought could possibly exist. 

* * *

The light from the nearby window shined brightly on Cameron's face, waking her from an incredibly comfortable sleep. She observed the position she was in and grinned at the arm around her waist that was clearly not hers. She stroked it with her thumb while she recalled the exchanges that were made the night before. Feeling content where they were at the moment, she took a deep breath and turned over to face him. She took in the angelic look he always seemed to have when no one was around to witness it.

"You're staring at me again. I must say, I'm flattered, but flattery will get you nowhere," he groaned. She jumped as he spoke, in disbelief that he could look so lifeless even when he was conscious and aware. "Although, another trip to the massage parlor would get you closer to what we _both_ know you're currently fantasizing about."

"Where? Here?" she smirked, motioning to the bed they laid in. He pried his eyes open, cautiously revealing his breathtaking electric blue eyes. The sunlight reflected off of the natural highlights in Cameron's hair, causing a golden tint to kiss her face.

"Well, since we're obviously not in Kansas anymore _Toto_ and you're not going to act upon any of those pesky lustful thoughts, we might as well raid the free breakfast buffet."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that we didn't act on them _already_?"

"Because you can move, think and talk intelligibly enough to form sentences that don't include the words "Greg" and "sex god". If we would've played "Clinic Duty" last night, you would've been left paralyzed," he boasted, smiling smugly.

"Nice to know that if I ever go in with the flu, I can leave, safely knowing that my original illness will be cured, but I'll never walk again."

"Basically what happened to me," he said, shrugging sadly. To avoid any pity, he followed up with his usual sarcasm. "Besides, I was talking about my uniquely created game version of Clinic Duty, which, by the way, is the _only_ actual type of clinic duty I enjoy. It has the advantages of hot babes, minus the 'ugos' and idiotic patients and their petty little cases of the sniffles."

"How did you not win the "Humanitarian of the Year" award?" she snickered, raising herself up on her elbow.

"Must've been sent to TB guy by mistake," he scoffed.

"He's a good doctor."

"Oh, TB or _not_ TB! That was the question when he came in here with his pathetic diseased third world country martyr act, wasn't it?"

She scolded him. "Yeah, amazing how he pulled off that part of how he had TB. Oh wait! He was actually diagnosed with it! It was bound to happen to him, eventually, being exposed to it for so long."

"Ironic, huh? The disease who fought against the disease contracted the disease." Finding the track his mind was going, he switched to rhyming his rant and rolled with it to see how long it could last, "which started out as simply a _sneeze_, who then begged to Dr. Cameron on his _knees_, like a _tease_…"

"House…" she said to him, warningly.

"…to have my treatments _cease_…"

"House!" she repeated.

"_Jeez_! Everyone but you could tell he was a giant _sleaze_…"

She sighed heavily, rolling off the bed, and rummaged through her bag for clean clothes.

"Where do you think _you're_ going, young lady?" he asked, hoping he didn't push his luck _too_ far.

She grabbed a clean shirt and jeans and turned to him. "We may not have played your nasty clinic game, but let me assure you, if we _had _hadsex last night, I guarantee the _only_ sentence _you_ could form would be, "I, _Greg_, bow down to Ally, who is a complete _sex__god_dess, because, believe me, I've heard it before and it didn't cost _me_ a dime!"

He took a moment to dissect her latest burn and scrunched his eyes in confusion. "I bet you always have your boyfriends call themselves _Greg. _Doyou audition a group of guys and judge them from there? What do you critique them on? How hot they are or how sex they look when they limp?"

He half expected her to cry or yell at him. Instead, she threw one back at him. "Nothing so shallow. I simply choose the most depressed, narcissistic, sarcastic bastard in the place and go from there. It's like "The Bachelorette" only referred to, as I like to call it, "Cloning Dr. House."

"Where can I sign up?" he smirked as he watched her head to the bathroom.

"You can't play! You _are_ Dr. House," she shouted over her shoulder, slamming the door closed.

He pulled himself out of the bed and step-thumped to the closed door. "Why? Because I'd win by cheating?" he said, leaning his ear on the door.

Cameron looked into the mirror. "You wouldn't _have_ to cheat," she murmured to herself. "You'd win anyway."

He grinned for the first time that day from what he heard Cameron's confession echo from the bathroom.

After a few moments, he heard Cameron turn the water in the shower on. He threw on some clothes, grabbed some motel stationary and left her a note before leaving the room in search for some grub.

* * *

Cameron, with a towel wrapped around her head, opened the door, letting a cloud of steam escape behind her. She had gotten dressed in the bathroom and was doubled over, rubbing the towel against her hair, drying it. She straightened back up and threw her head back to get it out of her face. She was running a brush through it when she noticed House was no longer in the room, but his bag was still there. Then she spotted a piece of paper on the bed that bore his handwriting, even though it was almost like scribbles.

_Thinking of you in the shower made me hungry. My plan is to track down a homeless guy and steal his ham sandwich from him. If you're still naked by the time I come back, I might not remember to give you what I went in search of in the first place. If that's the case, I'll forgive you after I'm done drooling._

_Signed,_

_Greg_

Cameron laughed. How could _one__man _make her want to throw something at him, and yet, want to happily jump him all within two seconds flat? He was like a terrible two-year old; he does things to annoy you and make you mad, but he's so easy to forgive and to love him. She grabbed the note and considered throwing it away, but resorted to stuffing it in her pocket instead. It might be the only evidence later on that she'd have that reassured her that he had _some_ feelings for her or at least found her attractive.

She began to stress about their current transportation situation. "What are we going to do? What if they can't fix the Mustang? Why didn't we just take the Freestar in the first place? Why did I have to give him a present that died before he could enjoy it? How will we get to New Orleans now? Will be have to stay here until they work on it?"

Her jaw clenched and she began to have trouble breathing. If she didn't know any better, she swore she was having an anxiety attack. Her muscles tightened in her face and she found herself unable to open her mouth. In a matter of just a few seconds, Cameron became dumb. Not intellectually impaired but unable to speak, while moving her jaw anyway.

With immaculate timing, the front door to the room flew open revealing House leaning against the frame. "I bring breakfast," he announced,

Holding up his cane. It was partially covered in stacked, toasted bagels that had been fitted around the hooked top. He noticed Cameron sitting on the bed, fully dressed.

"Argh!" he whined, limping over to her. "Not even a bra strap hanging out! Meanie." He sighed and shook his head. "Well, you can have a bagel, but _no_ forgiveness for you!"

He unhooked a bagel from his cane for himself and held out the other end for her to take the other. 

Cameron didn't even move. _Oh, no! _she thought. _Why this? Why now?__Why in front of__**him**_? She just sat there like he had seen her do, previously, the night she stayed with him. He remembered the frightened look on her face, identical to the one she was bearing right now.

"Are you a breadatarian? Do you have something morally against the consumption of slaughtered dough?" he smirked. 

"I'm pretty sure it didn't _suffer_ very long while they kneaded it to death. Besides, it was already done for _way_ before I even got around to toasting it."

Her eyes fell to the floor, attempting to conceal the tears that threatened to fall. _He's going to laugh. He's going to mock me and crack some stupid jokes about this. Then he'll be like the rest of them, _she sobbed, _completely scared to "break" me. _

House noticed the strong tightening in her jaw line.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment? I have to say, that's very first grade of you, Dr. Cameron." No reply. "You're still furious about what I said about Dr. TB? Well, I don't care. He's an over televised fraud."

She looked at him, deadpanned. 

He eyed her suspiciously. "Is this a round of charades? I won't play unless it's the strip version. Then, I'll come out winning victoriously," he said, lecherously grinning. After again, no response from her, he studied her body language carefully to find her lower jaw to be a little shifted to the side and unparallel to the top. His humorous mood fell into a more concerned and worried one.

"Cameron…stop clenching."

She looked up to him and a single tear escaped down her right cheek, her lips quivering.

"I...I can't!"


	16. The Hills Are In Flames

A/N: Hugh Laurie is my announcer...among other things...in my own pathetic little mind…oh, nevermind.

Disclaimer: God owns Hugh, not me. sniffle, sniffle

Warning! This chapter is LONG! Thelongest chapter that I've posted, yet! If you like them that way, today's your lucky day. If you like them shorter, you're reading the wrong story! Also, no offense to: maids, Best Western, and midgets. 

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

_**The Hills Are In Flames**_

(Imagine Hugh Laurie standing in front of you in a nice pair of blue jeans, a black blazer, a baby blue shirt that compliments his eyes so well, and a smile that makes you melt a little inside. Or just boxers and a smile, either way, he's still gorgeous!)

Hugh: "Previously on House…"

(Flashback of House standing in front of Cameron with a bagel covered cane extended to her. He's looking concerned at Cameron who's sitting on the bed of the hotel, not moving.)_  
_

"_Cameron…stop clenching."_

_She looked up to him and a single tear escaped down her right cheek, her lips quivering._

"_I-I can't!" _

House walked closer to her, tossing his cane onto the bed and sat down beside her. "What do you mean, you can't, Cameron? Open your mouth."

"I can't!" she cried, painfully forcing her words through gritted teeth.

Refusing to hurt her by telling her that he loved her again, only to deceive her, he was stumped, with no other ideas to test her, than this. House looked into her panicking eyes and slowly moved in, letting his mouth collide against Cameron's. As he lightly grazed her soft, lower lip, he instantly felt awkward, realizing she wasn't kissing back. Uneasily withdrawing, he glanced back up at her, her eyes slanted in a frustrated look of desire shielding a look of pain. It wasn't that she didn't want to kiss him. She just, like she said, couldn't.

Cameron's eyes went wide in shock._ Wonderful. The one time he makes a move and I'm incapable of doing anything about it. If there is a God, he must really have a sick and twisted sense of humor,_ she told herself. 

"I _can't_!" she forced out once more, shaking her head. Her words were cracked, her face wrinkled and she began to cry harder, her shoulders convulsing as she whimpered.

He knew then that if Cameron had turned down any opportunity of intimacy with him, something had to be seriously wrong. He replayed his conversation with Wilson back when they were in the van and what he had learned from Wilson's confidential talks with her. He placed each of his hands tenderly on the sides of her face and felt her muscles jetting sharply into his palms. She winced as he gently put a little pressure on them but quickly withdrew from her after hearing her yelp in agony. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, grabbing his cane. "I'll be right back," he shouted over his shoulder as he headed for the door. He opened it and turned back to Cameron. "If Wilson or Cuddy calls, just make some suggestively obscene noises or moans and they'll hang up and call back later. Trust me, it works. I've done it before."

He watched her close her eyes, fighting off an uncomfortable smile that would eventually be too painful to bear before making his way out the door.

_Did he just apologize? _She asked herself in surprise. _And where the heck did he go? What's he doing?_

A few minutes later, House shuffled back into the room holding a bottle of orange juice he got out of a vending machine in the motel lobby. He grabbed Cameron's bag from the pile she'd thrown it on top of, and sat down at a nearby side table. He combed through the familiar front pocket and pulled out a bottle of Valium, placing the bag next to his chair. He extracted a pill from the jar and placed it on the table. Pulling out his butterfly knife, he meticulously grated it into a fine, powdery texture.

After a few minutes, he removed the lid off of the juice and held it under the edge of the table, scooping the powdered pill into it. He replaced the lid and shook it vigorously back and forth, mixing it well. He then grabbed his cane and walked back over to the bed and sat down next to Cameron. He took the lid off and handed it to her. 

"Drink." 

She took it from him and stared at him with questions in her eyes. 

"Don't worry, I won't make you drive anytime soon," he said lightly, watching her study it with an uneasy expression. She slowly complied, putting it to her lips and sucking the bitter liquid through her teeth, grimacing at the sour aftertaste it left on her tongue.

She spoke to him in her expressions. _'How can you take pills like this? It's awful!'_

House smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know, it tastes terrible, but when you take pain relievers as often as I do, you look forward more to its effects over its flavor."

She looked at it uneasily again. _'Do I have to finish the rest?'_

"Drink it fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Smarts at first, feels better faster."

The side of her upper lip lifted up into an Elvis Presley-like curl as she scolded her drink for being so distasteful. She lifted it back to her mouth and sucked it down as fast as she could, choked on it slightly. 

House grabbed the bottle from her hand and held it until her body stopped shaking from coughing. Normally he didn't care so much about anyone else but himself. Had he been with anyone else, he probably would've kept his dollar and made them sleep outside in the gravel parking lot. But this was _Cameron. _She balanced out the team. The team couldn't function without her.

He couldn't be without her.

He tried to convince himself that it was because he didn't want to hire anyone else. He hated applicants, but he knew that wasn't the reason he was being so nice to Cameron. He put his hand on her shoulder as she doubled over, trying to regain her steady breathing. When she began to breathe normally again, she straightened back up and looked pleadingly to House. 

'_Please don't make me drink anymore,' _she begged.

He looked at the nearly empty bottle. "There's a mouthful left, can't you down it real fast?"

She shook her head and inaudibly pleaded with him to not push the subject.

He nodded and tipped the bottle up to his mouth, downing the rest of it. He tossed it across the room, aiming for a wastebasket that sat in the bathroom next to the sink. The bottle flew in the air, bounced off of the door and landed in the sink instead.

He turned back to Cameron who visually reprimanded him. He shrugged. 

"No great drug should go to waste. Ok, now" he said, grabbing his cane and heading into the bathroom. 

He grabbed a washcloth and turned on the water, cranking it to be as hot as he could stand it. When it bordered _pretty freakin' hot _and _scalding, skin removing _temperatures, he doused the rag into it and wrung it out. He folded it in half and hobbled back to the bed.

"Lay down. On your back," he said, waiting patiently as she leaned back, facing him and laid it across her jaw. When she hissed at the extreme heat, he pulled it away and blew lightly on her cheek, cooling it down a little before holding it back to her face. She closed her tired eyes, enjoying the warmth of the compress penetrating her constricted muscles and the compassionate and selfless gesture that House was showing her.

After a few minutes in the comforting and sarcasm deficient care of Dr. House, Cameron's body went limp as she fell into a calm, drug-induced slumber.

* * *

"_How long will it take to fix it?"_

Cameron awoke to what she thought was House talking to himself, but he was impatiently scorning at someone over the phone. She wasn't sure what he said, but she could tell he wasn't happy about it.

"I'm not sure, but I'm betting before the car's fixed."

She slowly removed the, lukewarm washcloth from her face. It then hit her that in order for it to be as warm as it still was, he would've had to keep warming it up for her.

"Next week! We can't stay here until then!"

She sighed in disappointment at the news of their delay. How would they get there or home instead?

House was pacing the floor in front of the bed, but didn't notice that she was conscious.

"A _what_? Does it change _colors_? Because if it doesn't, it's evidently not special enough to be rescued."

Cameron's eyes narrowed at his interesting comment, and slowly sat up, wiping her eyes.

"I'll bet it's still underwater, along with the cat. She could buy a hundred more for the price of going down there to pick it up. Sounds like a typical stubborn woman, though."

Cameron rolled her eyes. _Typical male chauvinistic pig comment_, she thought.

"Thanks. I'll tell her after she wakes up. When? We'll be there." 

He hung up the phone and turned to see his patient looking directly back at him. "Care to talk my ear off yet? I'm starting to miss Cuddy screaming at me."

She reached up and touched her tender, clammy jaw. It was moveable once again, but she still didn't feel up to using it very much.

"Wilson?" she asked, looking up at him.

He squinted his eyes. _Since when does Cuddy yell at Wilson? How can she think I'm Wilson? I'm so much better looking than him and without the horrible wife track record. _"Wombat? My, how you've changed! I almost mistook you for a smart, nice-looking doctor like Dr. Cameron. Wow, _that _would've been really awkward if we had ended up doing any of the things I planned on later this evening."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "I meant was that Wilson you were talking to?"

_Good, _he breathed, _she's coherent. _"He _wishes_ I'd talk to him that long. No, that was our ride to New Orleans. Hank, king of the grease monkeys, said he's got a delirious sister who's going down to salvage her cat. I'm guessing the stupid thing wasn't smart enough to climb to the roof or straight up a tree, and he's probably shark bait by now."

"When do we leave?" she asked, keeping her talking short and sweet.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, we leave the shop. We head to her place and then down to the Mardi Gras capital of the world. I better get my beads ready!"

She laughed. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I didn't know Valium was powdered courage! Evidently it's the drugs talking," he explained. "_You_ would never even _think_ of such a dirty thing. Anyway, there's a Chinese place down the street we could order from and Naughty Nurses 3 is on after General Hospital in about a half an hour."

"Chinese, soap operas, and porn. Just the kind of vacation I left New Jersey for," she said sarcastically.

"Feels like home, sweet, home, doesn't it? Although, there's a lot less bossy interruptions," he sneered, reaching for the phone book. "Unless I do something to tick you off, then it'll be perfectly familiar."

She smiled and lowered her head in thought. "Thanks," she said, meeting his gaze again.

He looked up from flipping through pages and arched a brow. "Now you're thanking me _before_ I make you mad? Seriously, is everyone turning into sixth floor Jerry? I'm going to start wearing a respirator and locking myself in a clean room."

She ignored his last comment. "Thank you, for not…saying anything. About…you know…" she said, hesitantly pointing to her jaw line.

He immediately grasped what she was trying to convey to him. She was thanking him for not hurting her. Of all of the insensitive things that his mind could conjure up, he pushed them all back and kept silent. He wasn't quite sure why, but he knew, somehow, that it mattered that he stay reserved about it. Not wanting to come off as being too caring and worried, he shrugged it off as nothing, flipping through more yellow pages. 

"Yeah, well, you've only been awake for, what? Five minutes? Wait for it…"

Cameron smiled as she listened to him order their food. Then it dawned on her that he hadn't really intended on saying anything about it after all. Deep down inside, it was his way of thanking her for caring.

* * *

_**An large order of Lo Mien, Sweet and Sour Chicken, and sixty twominutes of General Hospital later…**_

Cameron sat on the bed, digging into the bag of food they ordered and tossed House, who was sitting next to her, a fortune cookie. "Did you know there's, like, twenty of those things in here?" 

"Yeah," he said, popping open his cookie, "my first couple of fortune's always lie, so I get a few more until I like one of them. She laughed and grabbed one for herself. She opened it, ignoring the cookie it came folded in and read her prediction to herself. The strip of paper read _The one you love is closer than you think. _She gulped as she reread it to make sure she didn't misinterpret it. Sure enough, that's what it read. 

House noticed her reaction to it. "So, what's Mr. Miagee got to say?"

Cameron hesitated, obviously embarrassed to read the paper before her, and quickly remembered one she got the other day when she went out to lunch with Chase and Foreman. She recited it for him. 

"_Your new job will bring you a huge increase in income." _

She looked up from it with raised brows, and turned to House to decipher his reaction. 

He glared at her. "Is this your sly and manipulatively subtle way of trying to get a raise? Because you're going about it all the wrong way. They key to more money is sexually harassing your boss."

"Really?" she said, not believing a word he was saying.

"No.Evidently, that's not true. I've been complimenting my mistress everyday for close to five years and the only thing I get from heris more clinic hours."

She smiled. "It says _new _job. Maybe it's one I've applied for but haven't heard from yet."

He frowned. "Don't even think about it! I'm not interviewing anyone ever again! It's bad enough I had to sit through you three's interviews and then had to chat with Goldilocks' dad as he went on and on about how his boy's hair is only one of the _many_ greatqualities he has. So far, I've burned him about every one of them!"

Cameron smiled in amusement as she made out a hint of smugness in his tone. "Ok," she said, pointing to his hand. "What's yours say?"

He cracked open the cookie, eating half of it, and took a look at his prediction.

"_You will be invited to an exciting event." _

He scoffed at it. "Great," he said with no enthusiasm. "And then I'll have my secretary send them a glowing letter of rejection, as I do with all of the other "exciting events" that require me to talk to other people." 

"It beats letting you write them back. I can see it now," she said, lowering her voice into a gruff and mocking tone. 

"Dear Prestigious University, I have received a pathetically written letter from you idiots, wanting me to jump up on my soap box and talk to ignorant, hung over pre-med college students about stupid things that they could've easily learned if they opened their textbooks and skimmed a page or two. I'm so stoked to let you know that, I don't regret telling you to sit on your hilarious and feeble attempt to dissect my insanely genius brain apart, and only to teach someone how to diagnose something as stupidly simple as a cold. I don't appreciate the time you've taken out of my extremely hectic schedule of watching The O.C., eating Ruebens _without_ pickles; stupid lunch ladies, and making up new rumors to spread around about my big-breasted boss actually being a man. You can kindly take your invite and shove it up your arse. Sadistically Yours, Doctor Gregory House, M.D."

He gasped sardonically. "Cameron! I'm shocked that you would even say a thing like that! You know I wouldn't waste a sheet of paper on a reply that long." 

She raised a brow, sending him an "Oh yeah?" look. 

"No," he continued, "I'd waste _twice_ as much paper and write something completely random. But what you said, Jeez, Cameron, I'm not even _that_ cruel to Chase!"

She sneered. "Yes you are."

He smiled mischievously. "You're right, I am. He deserves it though. Last week I overheard-"

"And, by heard, you mean you were eavesdropping from your office again, huh?" she asked in amusement.

"You can't prove anything. Anyway, as I was saying, he told Foreman that he heard from Nurse Katie, who heard from Nurse Brenda, that in my spare time, for fun, I drown little kittens."

Cameron gasped, grabbed another cookie. "That's ridiculous!"

He narrowed his eyes. "That's what I said. Dumb nurses! Why can't they spread the rumors that _I_ start? Drowning kittens," he sneered. "I'm trying to learn how to tolerate the cute, the nice and the fluffy. Like you, for example. And Wilson, sometimes. I can't stand everyone else." She stared at him, skeptically. "What? You don't think I'm capable of taking a life rather than saving it, even if it's a tiny one?"

She nodded. "That and the fact that you're allergic."

"Who the _crap_ told you that I was allergic?" he inquired. The only animal he'd been in the vicinity of, around Cameron, was Steve.

"Your file," she said nonchalantly. 

"Taking advise from Foreman again, I see. Breaking into the records department now? Next time you're down there, can you grab my report card and secretly change all of my D's into B's before my dad sees them?" he smirked.

"Funny, House. I didn't steal it."

"Oh, Cameron, stop with the charade! I know you're crazy about me. I don't know _why_, but, you just keep on pursuing my outrageously chiseled bod to your little heart's content," he said, flexing his right bicep.

She fought back a smile and a blush and rolled her eyes, eating the cookie her fortune was housed in. "I saw your file when you were laid up after being shot. Don't worry, I didn't learn any of your secrets. Your allergies to felines don't exactly excite me to the point of stalking you so that one day you might 'hopefully sneeze on me' or 'throw me one of your used Kleenexes'."

He winced at the sickeningly desperate image. "Only a _true_ stalker could come up with something so terrifyingly disgusting like that, Cameron."

She smiled, opening another cookie to read another fortune. 

_A cynic is only a frustrated optimist._

Cameron snorted with laughter. "I think this one was supposed to be yours," she said, handing it to him with a huge grin on her face. He snatched it from her and quickly read through it, shaking his head. "You know who came up with that, right?"

"Wilson?" she guessed, biting back a laugh.

He frowned. "Close," he said, unable to conceal the amusement in his eyes. "A psychiatrist."

"Why? Because it's true?"

"No," he said, opening another cookie, "because it stated something elementarily simple, but jumbled the words around to make it seem like it was something worth reflecting on. Like, _A carjacker with a gun is merely a disgruntled valet who's had a bad day_." He looked down at the slip of paper in his hands, studying it questioningly.. 

_Keep your plans secret for now. _

"What's it say?" she asked.

He smiled deviously. "I can't tell you."

She tilted her head. "What? Why not?"

"Because it says I can't."

"It does not! Let me read it," she said, trying to grab it from him.

He smacked her hand away. "Hey! Mine! Back off! I have a stick and I know how to use it!"

She gave up with a sigh and leaned back, reaching again into the bag. "Fine, I'll open my own."

_You are talented in many ways._

She appreciated the compliment, and laughed when she remembered what she used to do with her friends when they had sleepovers. As immature as it was, she couldn't help but add the words "in bed" at the end. Amused by her more complimenting fortune, she looked up to find House staring at her, waiting for her to explain her outburst of giggles.

"Nope," she said, pulling it back towards her, guarding it safely.

"Come on!" he said, annoyed that she'd try to keep it from him.

"You show me _yours_ and I'll show you mine," she said with a spark of mischief in her eyes.

"Are we still talking about fortunes?" he asked, somewhat taken aback by her comment, but impishly returning her playful insinuating grin.

"Maybe. With this fortune, I can predict the future," she boasted bravely, slowly leaning in, closer to his face.

"Oh really?" he challenged, leaning in towards Cameron, his deep and almost whispering voice sent chills down her spine. "Then what am I'm going to do next?"

With their eyes locked and their faces merely inches apart, and moving closer, the space between them decreased more and more. Cameron had planned on answering him, but figured words wouldn't do her justice. House's warm, sensual breath graced her cheek as his lips moved closer to Cameron's. The thought struck them at the same time that they were going to kiss, and there was no force behind them making them do so; it was completely wanted by both of them. 

He held both of her hands and stared into her eyes. "No needle?"

Cameron smiled and shook her head, unable to remember how to speak. 

His lips made contact with hers for a split second, when…

"_YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT! NO, YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT!…" _

Their eyes flew open in surprise as they quickly pulling away, and growled in disbelief and frustration. He grabbed his silver Razor from the end table and flipped it open,silently looking at Cameron with apologetic eyes.

"This better be important, Jimmy!" House barked.

"You checked your caller ID just for me? I'm pleased to say that I believe this is a newfound breakthrough in our relationship," he said dully.

"And when I get back, we'll get you that pretty new dress you've been eying in the window at Bloomingdale's," he retorted. "And I didn't have to check it. My fun-spoiling ring tone for you was enough to warn me."

"What sort of _fun_ did I spoil?" he asked in amusement, but carefully.

"You better be dying, Cancer Boy! If you're not, I'll come home and kill you myself," he threatened.

Wilson grinned, knowing that House was only irritated when he called while he had "female company" or he was lost in his piano. Seeing as how he didn't take his piano with him…

"While _I'm_ not terminally ill, it seems that the less attractive part of your team found someone who is. Patient's name is-"

"Don't care," he said, cutting Wilson off. "Those two ugly ducklings have worked for me for years, they'll figure it out."

"They've done everything they could think of; they took her history, ran blood work, the works. Believe me, calling you was an absolute last resort!" he argued.

House sighed and covered the lower half of his phone with his hand. "Grab the black marker in the back pocket of my bag and meet me in the bathroom," he said, ignoring her baffled expression. He grabbed his cane and staggered into the other room, propping it against the bathroom counter. Cameron walked up from behind him and removed the lid from the marker, handing it to him.

"House?" she asked, worriedly.

He looked over his shoulder with a searching glance.

"Isn't that a Sharpie?" she asked, pointing to it.

"How very astute of you, Cameron! I'll put another gold star next to your name when we get home," he quipped.

She frowned as his sarcasm came flying back ten-fold. "Doesn't that make it a _permanent_ marker?"

"Hang on," he said to Wilson.

He put his cell down next to the sink, turned to Cameron, holding up the utensil in his hand and smirked. "Yes, _mommy, _this marker will not simply come off with soap and water. It will need to be forcefully scrapped off of this mirror by the terribly overpaid chatterbox at the front desk who seems to be the only one running this little roach motel. I promise to write with it and not sniff it to get high, okay?"

"Fine," she huffed, seeing as there was no choice in the matter; he was going to do it anyway.

He wrote the words _Jersey Girl _at the top and picked up his phone again. "Ok. Go."

House wrote the symptoms on the mirror as Wilson listed them off.

_Chills  
__Fever  
__Lethargic  
__Headache  
__Cough  
__Muscle Ache_

House stepped back and looked at the writings before him and dropped his phone, doubling over into a fit of hysterics. Cameron watched him, incredulously, as he fell against the wall, still laughing. She grabbed his phone and put it to her ear. 

"Dr. Wilson?" she asked.

Wilson sighed. "Why is he laughing? I started to list off symptoms and he went crazy! I wasn't even done! Did something happen there?"

"No, nothing! Hang on," she said, placing a hand on her hip. "House! What's so funny?"

He took the phone from her other hand. "I find it extremely hilarious that as soon as I leave, someone gets a case of influenza and they can't figure it out." He turned to Cameron. "Gone two days and it's already falling apart. Treat the underlying conditions and hope for the best. Oh, and Hi, Cuddy!"

"She's had the 'flu' for three weeks now and it's getting worse." Wilson suddenly forgot what else he was going to tell him as he furrowed his eyebrows. "What makes you think Cuddy's in here?"

"She just sat down," he said proudly.

Astonished, Wilson stared at Cuddy sitting in her office chair across the room. "Yeah, how did you know that?"

"I thought I felt an earthquake. I figured it was that or my seismograph picking up the vibrations of the Cuddy's _assets_! Call me when she tests positive for the flu and then pump her full of Vitamin C!" he smirked.

"Wait-House!" Wilson shouted, attempting to grab his attention before he hung up.

"Well," he said, snapping his phone closed and putting it in his pocket, "that was a waste of a perfectly good mirror." He turned to Cameron who opened her mouth to say something, when his cell phone started singing again, only playing a different tune this time. It was muffled by the material of his jeans and she couldn't make it out. 

"Twenty bucks says it's Cuddy," he said, grinning wickedly as he reached back into his pocket. She was about to ask him if there was anything he _wouldn't _bet on, when the music from his phone became clear as he pulled it out and up to his ear. She cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from audibly laughing as she recognized the tone House assigned to Cuddy.

"..._That HonkyTonk Badonkadonk…"_


	17. The Streets Cracked Open

**A/N:** While this story is ultimately Hameron (House & Cameron) themed, this chapter includes a little Wuddy (Wilson & Cuddy), and while I'm not too great at writing about them, poor Jimmy Wilson is such a great friend and he puts up with House so much, and I think a reward is in order and he should get lucky in the romance department too! And remember, the third (and hopefully last) divorce wasn't his fault!

**Redundant Disclaimer:** Oh, if I only owned House and Cameron…they'd have some CRAZY adventures! I'll take House if Cameron's too busy...hehehe.

**Spoilers:** One Day, One Room, Half-Wit and Love Hurts, I suppose. I've taken some of the events and remixed them a little.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

_**The Streets Cracked Open**_

_Meanwhile, back in New Jersey at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital…_

Dr. Wilson stood in front of the door in Dr. Cuddy's office, looking dismally at his phone. "He hung up on me."

"Call him back," Cuddy suggested.

Wilson shook his head. "It wouldn't do any good. Either he won't answer at all, or he will, just so that he can hang up on me. Besides, it seems I've been demoted from friend to 'fun-spoiler.' What on earth could they've been doing that I…" His eyes went wide as he looked at Cuddy, who was thinking over the situation.

"You don't think…that…they…do you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, it's plausible. I mean, House seems to be over Stacy since she went back to Mark and Dr. Cameron, God help her, has been pretty enchanted by him ever since that day she was hired to work in his department."

Wilson nodded and stumbled backwards, fumbling to sit down on Cuddy's couch. "You know, the first year that she worked here for her fellowship, I remember House barged into my office and ranted about her for a solid hour and a half. Then we went back to his place to knock back a few, and he continued to ramble on; before, after, and in-between commercial breaks of _The "L" Word_."

Cuddy looked at Wilson in astonishment. He cleared his throat.

"It was on _mute!_" he exclaimed defensively.

"Right…" she drew out smiling, her hands folding in front of her.

"I'll never forget the day Cameron remembered his birthday. It drove him so crazy that he was completely clueless about how he felt about her. I don't think he could decide whether to kiss her or say something House-like to make her cry and run away."

Cuddy nodded in agreement. "She's one of the _extremely_ few people that can shake him."

"I've cracked in, maybe a couple of shots that left he speechless, since med school, and he now punishes me by bumming money off of me, when he doesn't really need it and rubbing my failed marriages in my face. Cameron, however, tries to stab him with a needle and he goes on vacation with her. Did I _miss_ something? Has this world gone insane?"

"It's House. Everything he does is…WHAT?" Cuddy laughed at the thought. "I think someone's been exaggerating in the gossip chain again; Cameron wouldn't do something like that." She noticed the deadly serious look on Wilson's face. "Oh! You're not kidding? Is he okay? Is he alright? What was she thinking?" she asked with a shocked expression.

Wilson's eyes narrowed. "You seem awfully stunned that this could happen to him, for someone who's known House longer than five minutes." He shook his head. "Frankly, considering how tolerant Dr. Cameron is most of the time, thrown in with the amount of time she's forced to spend around _him_, I'm surprised she held out for two and a half years to do it."

Cuddy stared at him, horrified by his calmness over the situation.

"You didn't know about this? Any of it?" he asked, puzzled that the grapevine hadn't gotten wind of this soap-opera drama.

"No! Nurse Brenda never said anything about it," she said in disbelief. "What happened?"

"Well, it seems that some people _tend_ to do irrational things when the people they care about, tell them they're dying from a non-existent form of cancer."

Cuddy didn't understand. "Wait, this happened when he claimed he had brain cancer? Well, he deserved some type of swift kick to the groin, but it's not like Cameron to take her anger out on people, especially House. I could see her consoling him, but not _hurting_ him. When did she go for it, when he told her he didn't really have cancer?"

Wilson shook his head. "Not quite. She still thought he had cancer when she tried stabbing him."

She buried her face in her hands, and swiped them down her face, returning them to her desk, folded. "Why, because his fake cancer wasn't killing him fast enough?"

He smiled. "It seems she tried catching him off guard by seducing him so that she could steal a blood sample, but he caught her in the act."

"She _seduced_ him?" Cuddy asked, flabbergasted.

"Kissed him, from what I understand," Wilson informed her.

"And he told you this?" she asked, unbelievingly.

Wilson shook his head. "Not exactly. I heard it from his other ducklings after they found out."

She shook her head. "I _still_ can't believe he did that. That was low, even for him! Unfortunately, as much as I believe he deserved it, and for _SO_ many reasons, I can't have Cameron go running around this hospital, stabbing my best diagnostician. At least, until he's finished with his clinic hours."

Wilson's smile grew. He was glad to see she still had a sense of humor beyond her professional demeanor.

"And I can't let House corrupt Dr. Cameron after agreeing to let him tag along. I wonder where they are now."

Wilson sat back into the comfortable leather couch. "I'm not sure. I didn't really have a chance to ask while he was laughing at me, like a hyena."

"Well," she said, picking up her desk phone and pressing House's number, which was programmed on her speed dial, "Cameron's the closest to Mother Teresa out of anyone at this hospital, aside from that stunt, and as much of a burden it can be for her when it comes to dealing with dying patients, she instills a lot of hope in the doctors and patients here." She crossed her legs. "Thanks to her, I've cut my Prozac dosage down to the recommended quantity."

After a few rings, House's brusque voice sarcastically greeted her.

"Cuddy! What can I do for you? Or, better yet, what can I do you for?" he smirked.

"House, how's everything going? Where are you guys? How's Cameron? Are you both okay?" her questions blurted out anxiously as she transferring the call to speakerphone.

"Simmer down there, Dean Cuddles, I'm fine. Cameron's fine. We're both chillin' in a motel in Mississippi and I'm racking up the bill for you. Did you know this is a midget motel? There's all these little bottles of liquor in a little tiny fridge. I bet they have little midget hookers here too!"

"House…" Cuddy groaned tiredly.

"I drove down the street once, but I didn't see any. Maybe I'll cruise back down it and look closer to the ground," he said, pretending to consider it.

"House! Is there something wrong with the van? You didn't run out of gas, did you?"

"What? No, we just stopped to rest for the night," he explained, trying to detour the conversation from the absent hospital vehicle and the broken one as best as he could without lying.

"How's Cameron?" she asked, nervously.

"Why don't you ask her She _has_ the ability to talk, you know. Otherwise, I'll answer them for you as I make them up."

Cuddy sighed. "Fine. May I _please_ speak to Dr. Cameron?"

He grinned at her pleading. "Nope. Cheerleader Captain Cameron is currently…occupied…at the moment. She promised to run through some of her old routines for me, but she decided to stretch first and…**Holy CRAP! _How_ are you doing _that_**?"

Cuddy and Wilson looked at the phone, mouths agape as they heard feminine giggling in the background. "Nevermind," Cuddy said, getting uncomfortable. "Can you have her call me when you're…she's…not busy?" she stuttered.

House smiled triumphantly, winning the war of getting off the phone with Cuddy. "If she can form a sentence later, sure," he said into the phone. Before he hung up, they could hear him yelling, "Hey! No pole dancing with the cane!"

Cuddy and Wilson exchanged glances in silence, neither one sure what to think.

After several minutes of contemplating the situation, Wilson spoke up. "Well, he seems to be…enjoying himself."

Cuddy agreed. "Yes, but is it at the expense of screwing Cameron?" It took her a brief moment to realize how she had phrased her last question. "What I meant was, does it mean something to him, or is he just messing with her emotions again? I don't think she could take much more of it. Imagine living with it! I know _I_ couldn't."

Wilson sighed. "You'd be surprised what you can live with. I stayed with him for a while, when Julie and I were having marital problems. He's not very different at home than he is at work. He's a slob, he's lazy, and he wines when he's asked to do something."

"Are you _sure_ you didn't marry House? You two argue like you've been together for years," Cuddy smirked, grabbing a file Wilson had laid on her desk earlier and scanning over it.

Wilson frowned. "No thanks, he's too much of a slob for me," he retorted.

Cuddy smiled to let him know she was only kidding and changed the subject. "So, how's our patient?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. I was on my way down there when I stopped by."

Just as he finished his explanation, Chase filed into Cuddy's office, holding out a printed sheet of test results. "We've ruled out everything except for a few viruses, but the closest we've come is to merely the common cold."

Foreman walked into the room behind him. "The patient has a new symptom. She's coughing up blood. I think we need to call House."

They all took turns looking to each other for suggestions and answers. Finally, they settled their eyes on Cuddy, waiting to see what would come next. She looked at each one of them, slowly, and said "No! You are both perfectly capable of figuring this out by yourselves, you're just not trying hard enough!"

They stood feeling doubtful about the situation. "What do you want us to do, then?" Chase asked.

She looked them straight in the eyes. "I want you to do your jobs. The purposes of your fellowships under Dr. House is so that you can learn from him and take that knowledge and instill it into practices as you become better doctors on your own. I think now is a great time for you to start, don't you?"

They nodded and headed back out her door. Wilson stood from his chair. "I better get going too. I've got a consult with a family at 1:30."

Cuddy nodded and looked back at her paperwork as he made a break for the door. "Uh, Lisa?" asked Wilson, turning around to face her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness.

She looked up from her work and waited patiently for him to continue. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

She was clearly shocked by the invitation. "As in, two colleagues dining at the same table, or, like, a date?"

He looked thoughtful. "Preferably the latter one, but I'll take what I can get."

She smiled. "Sure, what time?"

"I leave here around six, so I could cook dinner and be ready to pick you up at seven thirty," he suggested.

_This is amazing, _she thought. _He's willing to invite me into his home, cook dinner, AND pick me up_. She shook her head. "If we're eating at your place, I can drive over, it's no problem."

"Are you sure?" he asked, "because it's no trouble at all…"

"I'll meet you there," she insisted, secretly overjoyed that he offered. The last date she went on didn't turn out very well, seeing as House had pretty much ruined it for her. She was about to contemplate the things that could go wrong, but was stopped by the happy slap of reality that hit her. House wasn't here to sabotage it.

A boyish smile graced Wilson's handsome features. "I assume you know the address, already."

"I'm pretty sure I can find it," she said, hiding her beaming giddiness under the open folder in front of her until she was sure Wilson was gone. She reached for her phone and paged her secretary.

"Yes, Dr. Cuddy?"

"Could you please bring me Dr. Wilson's personal file?"

"Right away, Dr. Cuddy," the voice cheerfully replied.

She thanked her and leaned back into her chair, thinking about the possible outcomes of tonight.

* * *

_**Please review while I revise the next chapter to be posted in a few minutes...**_


	18. And They're Pushin' Up Clay

**A/N:** While this story is ultimately Hameron (House & Cameron) themed, this chapter includes a little Wuddy (Wilson & Cuddy), and while I'm not too great at writing about them, poor Jimmy Wilson is such a great friend and he puts up with House so much, and I think a reward is in order and he should get lucky in the romance department too! And remember, the third (and hopefully last) divorce wasn't his fault!

**Redundant Disclaimer:** Oh, if I only owned House and Cameron…they'd have some CRAZY adventures! I'll take House if Cameron's too busy...hehehe.

**Warning:** Hamster Death Mentioned (No hamsters were actually harmed in the making of this story…)

**Spoilers:** Who cares? If you read enough House fanfiction, you'll confuse what you WANT to happen between them, and what's REALLY happened to them.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

_**And They're Pushin' Up Clay…**_

Cameron sat on the right side of the bed, flipping past dozens of channels showing infomercials and bad old movies with no-name actors in them, hoping to find something interesting. She was trying to ignore House's conversation with Cuddy, in case he said something that she might have to testify about him saying later on, but found it to be almost completely impossible. As soon as her name came up, her ears perked and her attention was lost on the TV.

She listened to him speak, trying to make out the static drowned voice on the other end.

_Cheerleader captain? He would think that_, she scoffed as she listened on.

**"Holy CRAP! _How_ are you doing _that_?"** House shouted, making Cameron jump a mile.

She turned and faced him, her heart pounding in her chest. She was about to ask him what he was talking about, when she saw him raise a finger to his lips, signaling for her to not say anything. She meant to laugh, but it came out more like a giggle, causing House to smirk at the thought of how that must've added to the vision he'd given Cuddy. _I'll have to thank Cameron for that later, _he thought, watching her go back to channel surfing.

He smiled victoriously as Cuddy was retreating, trying desperately to get off of the phone. "If she can form a sentence later on, sure," he said into the phone. Cameron heard the arrogance in his voice and looked at him, her mouth wide open when she realized what they were insinuating to their boss. It was only after House shouted, "Hey! No pole dancing with the cane!" that she felt completely humiliated. They both knew it was fake and that nothing had happened, but what kind of lecture would they get from Cuddy when they got back, assuming she thought he was serious?

"That was endlessly entertaining," said an amused House, sitting on the side of the bed, grabbing the remote away from her.

"Hey!" she complained, moving to grab the remote back from him, but he tossed it into his other hand and held it out away from him, making sure she wouldn't get it.

"Oh, stop whining. You weren't watching anything," he said, continuing her search for something to watch. Once he got to Nickelodeon, the end credits of an episode of Spongebob Squarepants was playing.

"No!" she said, reaching for the remote again. "I am _not_ watching Spongebob again."

"Pfft!," he huffed, holding it out further away from her. "You didn't even watch it the _first_ time, you fell asleep!"

"Well, _excuse_ _me_ for being tired! It was a pretty hectic day for me."

"Weakling," he teased her.

Giving up, Cameron sat back down and let herself fall backwards, her head smacking into her pillow. "Do you always mistake being tired for weakness, Mr. 'I don't plan on sleeping tonight.' What happened? Did you get too _weak_ to stay awake any longer?" she teased back.

"You're mistaking me being tired for taking advantage of my youngest duckling."

"So, you cuddled with me so that you could get into my pants?" she asked in confusion.

"If I wanted to get into your pants, Cameron, I'd just do it. You know me; long, sarcastic, and to the point. And I don' t _cuddle_," he said, grimacing at the fluffiness of the word.

"We cuddled. You are a_ cuddler_!" she sang, grinning.

"No, I _slept _with you to get into your pants. I had considered letting you talk about yourself, but I'm just not the D.H.A. type of guy. Less talking, more stripping; that's my motto!"

"Dreams, hopes, and aspirations?"

"Oh, so you're familiar with the technique," he said, hiding his surprise. "According to oncologists, it's the key to panty peeling," he smirked, remembering Wilson's shallow advice.

"Not hardly," she snorted.

"You don't think that, by me letting women boast about themselves, it leads them to inviting me into their homes to see their etchings?" Inside himself, he chuckled at the old pick-up line.

"I doubt you have to do any much more talking than Benjamin Franklin does for you and I think you wanted to do more than just take advantage of me, since you didn't."

_Another hooker reference. Two points for Cameron._

"I told you, I don't cuddle!" he snapped, annoyed that his reputation was quickly being destroyed by one tiny mistake in the heat of the moment. Good thing no one else is here to witness it.

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Are you calling me a liar?" he tested her, surprised by her accusation.

"I guess I am," she shrugged, adamant about her answer.

"I don't lie," he said arrogantly.

"Everyone does."

He studied her eyes, searching for answers, but finding none. "I was restraining you."

Cameron laughed. "Restraining me? From what?"

"I had to make sure you weren't going to try to rape me in my sleep." He knew it was a lame excuse, but it was certainly something he _wished_ she'd done.

"Yeah, because that's the secret goal I'm trying to achieve while I've got you stranded alone in a single-bed motel room in the middle of nowhere," she said sarcastically.

"Congratulations, then. The pieces of your well thought out plan are falling perfectly into place," he said, turning off the TV. "You're not going to break my other leg and keep me here, are you? I wouldn't put it past you. I liked Misery, but not enough to act it out."

"Never saw it," she replied.

"What? You haven't lived, kiddo. She immobilizes him and holds him hostage. Similar to this situation, only you're a lot hotter than Kathy Bates and she was a little psychotic. You, on the other hand, might cause me to develop a slight case of Stockholm syndrome."

"Ever hear the expression, 'You can't rape the willing'?"

"I'm _always_ willing, after a few drinks," he said certainly. "So are all of my dates."

"The inflatable ones, or just the ones with pure air in thier heads?"

He was secretly impressed and extremely curious to where this new snarky attitude of hers was coming from. _Why can't she be this confident at the office? _he wondered.

"Doesn't matter, as long as they put out afterwards."

"Spoken like a true scumbag," she said, crawling off the bed and grabbing her purse.

"Storming out already? I don't remember intentionally insulting you in…" he glanced down at his watch, "the past hour or so. What's got your lacy black thong all twisted in knots?"

She thought about blushing and walking out, but decided a better approach would be to take him off guard. "Even though my excellent taste in sexy underwear is none of your business, it happens to be red and I'm not storming out," she explained as a distinct car horn was heard from outside, "I'm catching my cab."

_Cab? What cab? Where's she planning on going? _He thought. She must've seen the expression displayed on his face because she spoke again.

"I called one earlier while you were coloring on _our_ bathroom mirror." She stiffened immediately after she heard herself voice the surprising and unexpected pronoun that she would regret and hope that he missed it.

He didn't, but come hell or high water, he wouldn't drag it out into anything, knowing it would only lead to emotionally in-depth discussions that he feared having, for the simple fact of it requiring him to open up to someone. It meant trusting that person. He was pretty sure he trusted her, but still, admitting it was bound to be more difficult.

"Great, I'll grab my keys," he said, grabbing his cane and making his way towards her and the door.

Her eyes grew wide. "What?"

"I'll...grab...my...keys," he said slowly, in case she didn't hear him the first time. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"'_We'_ aren't going anywhere! _I'm_ going out," she corrected him.

"And I'm going with you. Wouldn't want you to be taken hostage by the cab driver. Cabbies are dangerous like...hamsters."

Cameron looked at him in disbelief. "Hamsters, House?"

"Hamsters, Cameron," he said. "Sure they look all nice and cuddly, but when Beethoven's having a bad day, he'll bite your hand off."

"Don't you mean _dogs _instead of _hamsters_?"

"No, I mean hamsters. Why would you even suggest _dogs_? It ruins my metaphor," he said, remaining expressionless.

Cameron was confused. "Well, when you said Beethoven, I assumed you were referring to a dog you had once."

"No, I'm talking about Beethoven, the hamster I had when I was five. He was awesome," he said grinning, wistfully in thought. "I'd put him on my shoulder and he'd stay up there all day if I wanted him to. And he had these little treats I gave him..." House sighed, "He was the coolest. Not as cool as Steve, but he was right up there with him."

Cameron was so stunned by his heartfelt confession that she hadn't noticed that her jaw had dropped as he was talking to her. "Wow!" she said, genuinely smiling at his rare childhood memory of happiness.

"Yeah," said House, grinning. He began to space out while staring at the wall, thinking of his long lost animal friend, when his smile quickly fell into a deep frown. "But then, my dad found out about him and yelled at me. He called him a glorified rat and took him out to the shed behind the house and killed him."

Appalled, Cameron's hand flew to her gasping mouth. _How could someone do something so horrible? And to a child, no less! It must've been traumatizing for him. Maybe that's part of the reason that he has trust issues. I knew he didn't like his dad, but maybe that's one of the reasons why._ She lowered her hand and laid it gently on his arm. "I'm so sorry, House, it must've been awful!" Imagining a smaller and more innocent child-like version of House, crying over his beloved pet, invaded her thoughts and she instantly forgot what they were talking about that had started the conversation.

His gaze fell to his shoes and Cameron noticed that he practically wilted in front of her; his stance lowered as if someone had hung something heavy around his neck, his eyes fell, and he was, hypocritically, clenching. She shivered at the words he spoke next.

"Then he pushed me outside and made me sleep in the backyard in the cold until morning. No food, no warmth, no nothing."

"Really?" Cameron asked, choking on her words.

"No," he smirked, not wanting to admit to the slight truth in it. He didn't look at her as he waited for her to yell at him or smack him. After he got no response from her, his eyes darted back up to her face, and he drowned in the guilt that was flooded him. Tears had welled in her caring green eyes, enough that she could cry for him and her both. The sarcastic grin he had on his face completely vanished and his eyes grew wide, horrified.

She'd clung to every word he'd said and she'd taken it all seriously. She was sympathizing with him, and he was mocking her for it! For once in his miserable life, Gregory House gulped hard, trying to swallow back a mouthful of bile and the insensitivity he'd just thrown at her. The wounded look in her eyes was heartbreaking.

She hesitantly removed her hand from his arm, blinked hard and forcing an embarrassed smile to mask her tears. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words that he wanted to say were lost on him. He searched her eyes with his, hoping to detect the smallest glimpse of forgiveness, but found nothing among the heartache that he caused.

"Cameron, I-"

Not wanting to hear anything he had to say, she silently held up a hand and stopped him in mid-sentence. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and staggered toward the cab.

Watching her get into the cab and talk to the driver, House realized that she never did tell him where she was going.

"Cameron!" he shouted, limping toward the cab as fast as his left leg and cane would carry him. Slowly, but not sluggish enough for him to catch up, the cab started to pull away. She was leaving. She was leaving him. Would she come back?

"Allison!"

He yelled as loud as he could; not worried about who might've heard him. As the car pulled out of the parking lot and down the street, he could see Cameron glance helplessly at him. House stopped in his tracks as a cloud of dust from the wake of the cab enveloped him.

_Perfect, _he thought. _Now what am I going to do? I can't let her just go off by herself like that in a town like this. She could be mugged or raped or something. Or, worst of all, she could be with that maggot from the garage! What was his name again? Jethro? _He scoffed, not really caring what his name was._ Stupid kid._

He sighed and walked back to their room, feverishly pacing the poorly carpeted room, desperately seeking a way to find her. The sickening bile feeling came back to him, but it was triggered. Triggered by grasping the sickening truth that he was worried. Not only was he worried, but also he was worried about someone other than himself. Worried about her.

Worried about Allison.

He then had a brilliant plan come to mind. He grabbed the phone book and his cell phone and called the cab company, requesting the same driver by the numeric stickers he'd seen on the back of it. They promised him that he would be picked up in a matter of minutes. He closed his phone and began pacing again. He knew that his mind, nor his body, was going to be able to rest until he knew Cameron was safe.

After a few more minutes of pacing, the cab returned to the hotel, but Cameron was no longer in the back seat. House locked the room and shuffled over and into the car. "Where to sir?" the driver asked.

_This was going to be a tricky situation, _he thought. _I better word this correctly, or he'll think I'm trying to stalk her. _He decided that looking old enough to be someone's father _did _have it's advantages, sometimes. He cleared his throat. "You gave my daughter a ride earlier from the hotel and she wants me to meet up with her," he lied.

"To the Piggly Wiggly, then?" the driver inquired.

House raised a bewildered brow and hesitantly nodded to the driver, assuming he that was were Cameron had gone. _Who knows, it sounds fairytale-ish enough for her to go there._ As they drove to the destination that Cameron asked for, House couldn't help but wonder...

_What in the heck is a Piggly Wiggly?_

* * *

_**Your reviews are to me what Vicodin is to House. Please refill my prescription! (I love to hear your thoughts!)**_


	19. The Temperature's Dropped

A/N: Enjoy!

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Chapter Eighteen

_**The Temperature's Dropped…**_

Ten dollars and seventy-five cents later, the cab pulled up to the front doors of Batesville's, one and only, Piggly Wiggly.

House's face wrinkled in disgust at the store's name, mascot who looked almost identical to Porky Pig, and just the whole store's appearance in general. _The grocery store? _he thought in amazement._ She ran away…to the __**grocery **__**store?**_

The driver cleared his throat to attract House's attention. "That'll be 10.75, sir," he said.

House looked at him and asked him if he could wait for him if he kept the meter running. The driver nodded in affirmation and pulled over to the side of the road and parked.

He stepped carefully through the first set of automatic doors and saw her curly brown hair hovering over a display of honeydew fruit. He limped over next to her as she picked up a few from the stand.

"Nice melons," he smirked, smiling while leaning on his cane in front of him with both hands.

His mischievous grin was wiped clean off of his face as a hand briskly slapped him across the face. He winced in pain, not expecting such a sting and peeled his eyes open to find that someone who wasn't Cameron had slapped him. His eyes grew wide in shock of what had happened, and the woman walked away before he could apologize.

House stood there, holding his stinging cheek, as she walked away.

"_Dang witch!" _he hissed.

"I guess I should be thanking her," came a familiar female voice from behind him. "She only did what I couldn't bring myself to do earlier."

House spun around to find Cameron standing behind him with her arms folded. "You have an evil streak in you the size of Mt. Everest, don't you?"

"What are you doing here, House?"

"Well, I _was _here to buy fruit, but you see how well that turned out," he said, rubbing out the pain in his cheek. "I always told mom that health food would hurt me. She never believed me, but now I have you as a witness, in case she ever questions my eating habits again."

"How could she? She never sees you. Heck, I _work _with you and _I_ hardly see you! Are you sure your dad didn't take her out back and kill her too?" she scoffed.

House lowered his head, reminding himself that she wasn't aware of his dad's true personality. He knew he'd lost a big part of Cameron's trust, and had to gain it back, somehow. He braced himself, knowing that in order for her to forgive him, he'd have to do something big, something deep. After contemplating it for a moment, he figured the best recovery solution for a lie would be to tell the truth and then some.

"I'm sorry, Cameron," he started, trying to get her attention. He noticed it worked when she looked up at him with a curious gaze. He shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, I'm not good at this sort of thing but...I wanted to apologize, for the whole "hamster" thing. I lied about that; I've never even touched one before."

She nodded, figuring as much, but remained quiet as he continued to apologize.

"But, the part about my dad and the yelling and sleeping outside," he said in all seriousness, penetrating her eyes with his, "that was true."

Cameron's angry glare softened. She remembered seeing him whither in front of her earlier and she knew, somehow, that this was something that he wasn't lying about. She nodded in acceptance of his confession, knowing it was something huge for him to do.

"I'm still sorry, House," she offered.

He shook his head, appreciating her understanding gesture, but the more he thought of the dark past he had with his dad, the more dejected he felt, so he looked around at their surroundings, desperate to change the subject.

"So, what'd you drag me down here for anyway? Trojans on sale?"

Cameron was about to argue with him about not physically dragging him along with her and that he _chose _to follow her, but she was caught off guard by his question. "No, I remembered seeing this place on the way into town and I figured since we'll be in town overnight, we should have something to eat other than greasy Chinese leftovers."

He smiled lazily at her. "Okay, but, you haven't the faintest clue to what kind of food I eat. What if I won't eat that healthy crap you consume everyday? I had to catch you in the act of shopping, to make sure you didn't buy something healthy to try and slip into my junk food later on."

Cameron chuckled softly and found that it was terribly hard to hold a grudge against him; at least for her, anyway. She started to walk down the aisle, but House stopped her.

"Hang on," he said, limping back to the door. Cameron watched as he grabbed a cart from the corral and eyed him, suspiciously after he returned with it.

"We're getting food for one night, and maybe something to snack on, and you're grabbing a cart?" She quickly kicked herself for making such an inconsiderate comment, as House hooked his cane onto the handle of the cart, letting it dangle from the side, and leaned onto the front of it for support. She assumed that he did this so that it made himself look more lazy than disabled. They walked down the aisles together, periodically snatching something from a shelf and tossing it into the cart.

As they made their way down the narrow aisles, House began to steer the cart like a stock car, pretending that he was a driver for NASCAR. Cameron scolded him when he "accidentally" (yeah, right...) ran into people and apologized for him. She quickly grew tired of receiving the evil looks from House's stock car racing victims that were intended for him.

He looked innocently over to Cameron. "No, you really _can't _take me anywhere. I'm surprised Cuddy didn't tell you before me left."

They traveled down the soda aisle and House looked at Cameron and nodded his head towards the bottom shelf toward some cases of canned soda.

"Grab two of those for me, will ya?"

Cameron walked over to the shelf he was hovering above and squatted in front of it. "Do you want the twelve pack or 2-liter?" she asked.

House's attention was lost in his thoughts as he found himself staring at Cameron's perfect jean-sculpted bottom. She turned her head around after receiving no reply to her question and realized what it was that had him so preoccupied. Blushing, she sighed and grabbed two-twelve packs and stood back up, placing them into the cart.

She sneered at him. "Pig."

He whipped around to look at her. "What'd you say?"

"I believe I called you a pig."

House's hand covered his gaping mouth. "Cameron! I can't believe you're dissing the Piggly Wiggly mascot! You should be ashamed of your peppy cheerleader self!"

She rolled her eyes. "I _wasn't _a cheerleader, House."

"Why not?" he asked in all curiosity. "You could've been the head honcho of all air heads."

She scoffed at the idea, but realized that somewhere in his sexist comment he'd hidden a compliment. "Yes, House, I had nothing better to do than the football team's quarterback or MVP."

"You know, I used to be on a lacrosse team..." he said, hinting to her with a raised brow.

"Aha! Benchwarmer, huh?" she teased him.

"Only during practice. Coach wanted me to rest up for the games," he boasted, grinning at her verbal jest.

"What was your number?" she asked.

"My favorite, of course. Forty-two."

"Mine was 13," she told him, thinking back to a time where she played sports.

"Doesn't sound too lucky to me." He didn't think she played lacrosse, but he was on a roll with drawing out personal information so he kept asking questions. "You play?"

Cameron's forehead wrinkled. "Play what?"

He shrugged. "Sports? Instruments? The field? I don't know, pick one."

"Why?"

"I'm curious."

She snorted. "What else is new?"

House sighed. "Fine. I was just trying to talk to you, by making, what Wilson says normal people call, small talk." He hesitated and blushed in embarrassment at bothering to try at all. With no resort left, he sped up ahead of her. "Never mind."

He was just being friendly, not the sarcastic and snide-remarking boss she knew before.

"Track!" she said, hoping it wasn't too late for her to catch him in this mood.

He turned to face her and looked at her sideways. "You ran track?" _That would account for the shapely legs_, he thought.

She nodded, blushing at her eagerness to tell him things that were personal. "And I play Badminton too. I used to play the violin, and I don't think I need to answer that last one."

"Are you any good?" he asked.

"At what?"

"Any of them," he replied, secretly hoping she'd answer all of them.

"I suppose so," she said, modestly. "It's been awhile since I've done any of those things, really."

And then came the awkward silence that they knew was inevitable. Both of them had questions pouring through their heads, but neither were sure which ones to speak until Cameron replayed their earlier conversation.

"So, you've _never _owned a pet?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing you could really count. I had a pet rock that ceased to entertain me from the second I got it, a Chia Pet that never grew anything, and a Tqmagotchi. When they were the newest and coolest things on the block, I bought one, and it _did _die. Over and over and over again."

Cameron laughed lightly. "I think my digital pet life-span record was 32 days. Then, I was so proud of keeping him alive for a whole month, I went to bed one night, forgetting to feed him and I woke up in the morning to a digital tombstone."

House continued down the next aisle, and opened a frosted freezer door, pulling out a carton of rocky road ice cream. He held it up and showed it to Cameron, as if waiting for her approval, and placed it into the cart after receiving a nod from her.

"You know we're going Dutch, right?"

He looked surprised and glanced down at his Nike Shox. "Phew!" he mock-sighed, looking at Cameron, relieved. "I was afraid they'd turned to wood."

"I'm serious. I'm only paying for my half," she warned him. "I'm not Wilson, you know."

"No arguments there. The man is a master chef when it comes to pancakes. I'll bet your idea of breakfast is throwing frozen waffles in a toaster. Besides, I'm not paying for your crappy rabbit food."

He then looked into the cart, noticing she had hardly selected anything to eat. He took this opportunity to mask his concern and pry a little deeper into Cameron's unknown private life without making it obvious. "Seriously, do you eat?"

She was growing a little agitated at the question. Of course she ate! How else do people live? "I probably eat more times a day than you do," she said, grinning.

"But how much each time? One bite that lasts you every three hours?"

"Full meals," she replied proudly.

House slowly looked her over. "Where's it all go?"

Cameron laughed. "You don't know? And you call yourself a doctor."

He shook his head as they approached the checkout lane and stopped to look at her.

"I don't wear a lab coat and I walk with a flamed cane. I don't shave, my shirts are wrinkled, and I wear Nikes to work. I'm doing everything in my power to make it seem like I'm not a doctor. The last thing I look forward to in my daily routine is when patients to come to me because they need someone to grab them while they turn their heads and cough."

He frowned as Cameron chuckled at the image he gave her.

"You _would _think that was funny, wouldn't you? Women. You haven't the slightest idea what it's like to be a man who's being fondled by another one. It's a very _sensitive _procedure. And you'll never know the true meaning of discomfort until you've been the squeezer of nads. Someday, I'll assign you one of those and then you can tell me just how "funny" it is then!"

Cameron was laughing out loud now, attracting the attention of the customers waiting in line around them. "So, what were you, the executioner or the victim?" she giggled out.

"You mean, who wears the latex gloves in the exam room?" he quipped, trying to look angry and embarrassed. He struggled to hide the fact that he was amused that she was enjoying herself. He'd do anything to make her laugh over cry any day. Even if it meant talking about this.

"Relax House. It's a prostate exam, not a death sentence," she said, failing to notice the odd looks they'd been receiving since they started the conversation. Seconds later, the line had moved up and the customer in front of them was paying for her groceries, allowing them to start unloading theirs onto the conveyor belt.

"Hey," he said, playfully shaking a paternal finger at her. "Squeezed gonads are no laughing matter. Any man, in his right mind, would spank you for even mentioning such a thing and making it sound comical."

"Excuse me," said the little old lady who stood in front of them that had just paid. "I could not help but overhear your conversation and I was hoping that I might say something."

House and Cameron exchanged glances, and nodded to the woman to continue. She took her frail hand and patted House's forearm, raising her caring brown eyes up to look into his cerulean ones. "My dear husband, William, God rest his soul, died last fall," she croaked out, "and if he'd had his yearly physical done, we would've caught it on time."

"I'm so sorry." House watched as Cameron apologized, and he saw her heart pouring out for this elderly lady. He never understood how one person could care so much for someone they didn't even know. The woman thanked Cameron by taking her other hand and placing it on Cameron's forearm as well. She beamed a tired, wrinkled smile at them both. "You two are just the sweetest couple I've ever met."

Both of them were taken aback by her compliment. Cameron began to protest their relationship status, or lack thereof, when House cut in before she could say anything.

She stood in awe as House bowed his head to the little old woman and said, "Thank you. We don't get a lot of that from people. They seemed to be offended at the age difference." In actuality, it was _he _who was disturbed by the gap in age. She knew he didn't care what everyone else thought, but then again, if that were true, why did it matter what this little old woman thought?

She moved her hand down his forearm, grabbing a hold of his hand and placed Cameron's hand in it. Cameron's light blush turned dark, bringing color to her face, and she looked modestly over to House, who was surprised by the woman's action and yet, pleasantly surprised.

The little woman turned to him and said, "Please, promise me that you'll get checked out, too. Prostate Cancer can sneak up on you and you're just too _young _to go through anything like that."

Cameron smiled, as tears came to her eyes, thankful for this caring woman who, in a way, reminded her of herself. It was so sweet, even if she thought that her and House were a couple and that, from their earlier conversation, this woman believed House was a man who was simply afraid to have his manhood checked out. House, a little embarrassed by the situation and feeling his ego was a little threatened by the thought of him handling it any other way than manly, subconsciously tightened his grip on Cameron's hand. Neither of them realized he hadn't let go.

The beeping sound of the register's scanner, while the cashier scanned their items, became muffled, as Cameron's own nervous voice filled her head. _Uh, oh! He's getting uncomfortable. And he's looking at the poor woman like he's going to verbally tear into her like a rabid dog. What am I going do? _

"I'll have you know-" he started to scorn at the kind lady.

Cameron panicked and resorted to her first instinctual response.

She threw her arms around House's neck, yanked him down, closer to her, and let her lips crash against his. At first, the shock of Cameron kissing him was too overwhelming him to physically respond, but as her lips waltzed against his, he soon found the flowing rhythm and let his tongue gently glide against hers, exploring her perfect mouth.

The light caress they held each other in became heated as a lascivious groan escaped from deep within House, causing chills to coarse through Cameron's body as she responded in excitement. He shifted all of his weight on his good leg, ignoring the pain in the other, while his brain was shouting at him, warning him that if he kept going, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

A tiny squeak of a small voice and a slight tap on the shoulder from the little woman, and the sound of the cashier clearing her throat, finally brought them back to the present and it's surroundings. Cameron's eyes never left House's, nor did his leave hers. He watched Cameron as they pulled away and he nodded towards the cashier, asking, "Are you going to pay the lady?"

Snapping out of her daze, she turned to the grinning teenaged cashier and handed her a twenty. She accepted the change and then noticed she'd paid for all of House's food, also, after he'd mischievously slipped his things onto the belt, hiding it in between her snacks. They pushed the cart ahead of them, and turned to thank the woman who'd unknowingly gave them a slight push in the direction they were both hoping for, but she'd already disappeared.

"So," said House, steering the cart out to the awaiting Taxi cab, outside, "what now?"

Cameron asked the driver to pop the trunk and threw the bags into the back. She walked around to the side of the car and got in, sitting next to him. He looked at her sideways, waiting for any suggestions, as the driver pulled out and drove towards the motel. "Well, I was going to suggest that you get checked out, but you had a physical done before we left, right?"

House laughed. "If you call getting Wilson to write down everything I said and sign it, then yes, I've had one very recently."

"Too bad," she said, grinning. "I was hoping to be the attending."

He groaned inwardly at the window of opportunity that he just passed up and hoped another one would come along when they made it back to their room.

Another night with Allison Cameron and he was looking forward to it.

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A/N2: Please review!


	20. The Sky is Grey

A/N1: I want to thank everyone for their awesome review and explain a few things that might answer a few questions. The chapter titles (I tried to match the story to some of them as best as I could) are lyrics from a song by The Wallflowers called "Everybody Out of the Water (New Frontier). Yes, some little old ladies are awesome, and some are just plain creepy! I update as I write it, so please bear with me. Also, keep in mind that **_they havn't even made it to New Orleans yet, so that leaves plenty of time for things to happen!_**

Thanks for reading and please review! Danielle Lynne

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Chapter Nineteen

**_The Sky Is Grey_**

Cameron grabbed the groceries out of the cab and drug them to the door of their motel room while House paid the driver. He made his way next to the door and leaned his cane against the outside wall, quickly fishing through his pocket for the key.

He pulled it out and unlocked the blackened room, blindly searching for a the light switch with his hand. His fingers soon found it and flipped the switch upwards, revealing the room in a slightly different position than it was before they left. Nothing much had changed, besides the bed being made and for the presence of newly washed towels.

Cameron stepped inside and threw a few sacks of food on the table, picking out the perishables to place in the mini-fridge as House grabbed his cane and turned to shut the door.

"Now," he said, stroking his day-old stubble in thought, "there's something missing from this slumber party."

Cameron grinned and questioned his choice of words. "Slumber party?"

He brought his hands on his hips, mocking an appalled teenage girl. "Don't tell me you've never been to a sleep over, Cameron!"

She chuckled. "I've been to plenty. Which leads me to wonder...who in world would ever invited _you _to a slumber party?"

"I've never been to a party, that I didn't crash after not being invited, except for the ones I had while growing up and were thrown by my mother." Cameron was glad to hear him talk of his mother. It wasn't a subject that was brought up very often.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Cameron nodded, still not quite being able to picture him sitting in a circle of giggling girls and braiding hair with them.

"Check this out," he said, childishly pulling a bag of Doritios from one of the sacks they brought back with them and tossing it slightly up in the air. While gravity pulled it back down, he slammed his hands together on the bag, causing a loud, deep popping sound. As the bag broke open, he started to grin at his accomplishment, but frowned as soon as Nacho Cheesier flavored chips fell to the floor. Unfortunately, House's ego and pride took a blow as they both realized the bag popped open at the wrong end.

House sported a frustrated smile and looked over to see Cameron smiling at him, sympathetically. "Incompetent bag," he pouted, flipping it over and reaching in for a chip, before offering the bag to Cameron. "Want some crumbs?"

Cameron shook her head. "No thanks."

Both of them became hideously bored. House rummaged through his duffel bag, while Cameron sat on the bed, flipping through channels.

"Bingo!" he exclaimed, holding up a couple of shot glasses and limping towards the mini-fridge to retrieve a bottle of Scotch.

"And now, for a rousing game of "I Never..."

* * *

"Liar! Put down that glass," said House in disbelief.

Cameron shook her head. "No, I kid you not; I socked him good! Gave him a black eye to match his blue balls and everything."

"I can't see _you _punching anyone. Glad someone did though; they need to castrate that little pervert!"

She smiled at his funny way of showing her that he cared that she'd been violated, even if it'd been before they knew each other. With a little lower alcohol level, she might've blushed in embarrassment from the conversation, but she was a little too tipsy to care, and yet, still too sober to do any violating of her own.

"Why'd you drink? There's no way you've never punched anyone before! Been punched, maybe…"

He grinned. "Excellent observation, Dr. Cameron. Actually, I was just drinking because I got thirsty. My bad," he said, taking another sip of Scotch and setting down his glass to refill them both. "It's your turn."

"Do the things I've done since I met you count?" she asked, knowing most of the things she'd done that she normally wouldn't, only happened because she was told to.

_"Especially _what you've done since you've met me," he said, smugly.

"I don't think that's very fair," she protested. "I was made to do most of those things!"

House shook his head. "Nope. You were never _made _to do anything that you weren't already convinced of doing. I never threw you a spare key and forced you to put it in the lock and turn the handle in order to break into someone's house."

She huffed. "Nearly. Anyway, I never..." she thought for a moment. "I never slept with Dr. Wilson!"

He snapped his fingers in mock-disappointment and put down his drink. "I guess that means I can't drink."

Cameron's eyes grew wide. "You _slept _with _Wilson_?"

"Well, we both passed out on the couch. But, he cooked dinner that night, so I sort of felt obligated to put out," he said, winking at her.

She laughed and said, coyly, "Do you always show the previous night's chef a good time?" _Did I really just say that?_

House was in mid-swallow before he started choking on his drink. _Did she really just say that?_ He coughed to clear his throat and ended the fit with a smiled and a sparkle of lust in his stare as he looked at her sideways. "Is that you or the booze talking?"

Cameron shrugged. "If it was the booze talking, it hasn't said anything I wasn't thinking."

She picked up her glass again and took another drink. She'd become accustomed to the taste during the game, and felt that anything else she could drink would only taste tainted afterwards.

"Ok, my turn?" he asked. "I never...got high and slept with a wombat."

She frowned at his evil smile and glared at him. "You _had _to bring that up!" He really thought there was something sexy about the way she looked when she was frustrated. The last one was probably a bad thing to bring up, but he received the wicked stare he'd been hoping for.

Tipping up her glass, she downed it's contents and decided to take the game one step further. It was time to make get personal.

"I never...slept with a married woman."

House took the hit below the belt, but hid the wince behind a drink and a smile that said 'You'll pay for that.'

"I...never had a HIV scare."

House could feel that he hit too close to home._ Crap! _he thought, _I did it again. Here comes the fight._ The game was turning deadly and if one of them didn't forfeit soon, it was going to end ugly.

"I never became a Vicodin addict!" Cameron retorted.

House stood from the bed and frowned, his eyes narrowed. "I never married a man who was terminal!"

Cameron stood right in front of him, not backing down, and grew more livid by the second. "I never had an affair with my ex right under their spouse's nose!"

"I never tried to stab my boss!"

"I never faked brain cancer to get high!"

"I never cried over a patient!"

"I never pushed away the only person that ever loved me!"

"I've never been under the delusion that I can fix damaged people!"

"I've never used my physical handicap as an emotional crutch!"

"No!" House roared, his warm breath hitting Cameron's cheeks, "Because _you _don't know what pain is!"

Cameron was so furious that she saw red. "Pain? _Pain_! I watched my husband die a slow and excruciating death, House! And to top it all off, I lost the only other living part of him that I had left! Don't you **_dare _**tell me that I don't know what pain is!"

"So you're saying that my physical pain is nothing but a walk in the park? Hate to break it to you, _angel_, but there won't _be _any walks in the park for me! I live with that painful reminder every second of the life I have left!"

"At least you're alive to complain about it!"

"Yes! I'm sure he'd be just _thrilled _to sit here while you screamed at him instead of the peaceful painless and Cameron-free silence he's getting now," he said, standing an inch from her face. "Tell me, did he really die from cancer or did you actually kill him with kindness?"

Cameron was blinded with the hate that had been building up inside of her. Her heart was aching, and, unlike House, no amount of Vicodin was going to help her pain. She hadn't realized that she was she was still holding the shot glass. She raised it high to throw it against the wall behind him, but was stopped by House's hand on her wrist. Instead of dropping it, she gripped it until her knuckles became as white as a ghost. There was the sound of breaking glass, followed by stabbing pain in the palm of her hand.

Cameron gasped in surprise and let go of the glass, letting large blood-covered shards fall carelessly to the floor. Her angry stare fell into a heartbreaking series of tears. She looked helplessly into the eyes of the only man she would ever love again and choked back tears as she spoke.

"I can _feel _the _pain_, Greg. I...It hurts," she whimpered.

House's rage cooled instantly at the pitiful sound of his name being cried out. The only time he'd ever seen Cameron cry was when in the chapel. He'd been proud of her and how she held her own throughout everything. Shaking the memory away, he drew his attention to the present. His grip loosened on her wrist until he was sure that she wouldn't pull away, and he pulled her closer to the bedside table. He picked up the phone and called the front desk.

"_Front desk."_

"This is Dr. House in room 221. I need a first aid kit brought over."

"_If you're a doctor, why don't you have your own stuff?" _asked the annoying teen, her feet propped up on the desk.

"GET ME A FIRST AID KIT, NOW!" he screamed into the phone, slamming it down on the cradle.

"Why don't I have my own kit...stupid, bloody, idiotic teenagers..." he grumbled, pulling her hand under the light so he could see it better. A few flecks of glass cut through muscle, embedding themselves deep into the gash in Cameron's hand. She hissed sharply as he gently touched the pieces, trying to remove them by hand before resorting to tweezers.

He sat Cameron down on the edge of the bed and took a seat next to her, thinking of something to say to take her mind off of the pain. This was one of those things that he wasn't particularly good at, but something inside of him wanted to comfort her. He curved his pointer finger and turned it sideways, placing it under Cameron's chin and lifting her head to see her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, more from the shock of what happened than the pain she felt from the broken glass.

"We need a astringent to keep you from bleeding out," he said, carefully leading her into the bathroom. "This is going to have to do until that chatty louse gets here," he griped, sticking her hand under a steady stream of ice-cold water, causing her to cry out in pain as it stung her fragile skin. When she tried to pull it out from under it, House scolded her. "Keep it under there until it stops!"

The colder her hand got, the harder it was to keep under the faucet. Instead of numbing her hand, it intensified the pain running through it.

"What about ours?" she asked through gritted teeth, wincing at the throbbing she felt.

"I can't exactly run downstairs to get it. Besides, we may need that stuff later. I paid good money to stay here tonight and the least they can do is bring us a freakin' case of Band-aids!"

Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door. House limped to the door and swung it open to see the bratty teenager, holding a white plastic case with a Red Cross symbol on it. He snatched it rudely from her hand and slammed the door in her face, letting her complain to the peephole. Opening it, he found everything he needed and removed an antiseptic wipe, sterile gauze, tweezers and a long elastic ACE bandage. He dropped the remaining case on the bed and hobbled back into the bathroom where Cameron still painfully held her hand under, what felt like, sub-zero temperature.

He turned off the water and lowered the toilet seat to sit on the lid. He grabbed the tweezers and meticulously removed the small fragments of glass still deeply buried.

After removing the last piece, he carefully wiped her palm with an antiseptic wipe and held gauze to her hand, doused in astringent to stop the bleeding. He unwrapped a piece of sterile gauze from it's wrapper and applied it before securing it with the elastic bandage, making sure to anchor her wrist with it first. He made sure it was secured and looked up at Cameron, hoping she was still holding it together.

"You won't be putting on any puppet shows for Wilson's naked mole rats for a while, but the prognosis looks pretty good," he smirked.

Cameron looked House wearily in the eyes and nodded.

He stood up and started to walk into the other room. "Come on," he said, never letting go of her arm. He sat her on the bed and handed her the remote. "Anything you want to watch. Even if it's," House gulped as he strained to say such un-manly words, "girly crap, like a chick flick."

This brought a pained smile to Cameron's face. "Thanks," she said, starting to channel surf. After searching through all of the channels, she finally settled on _Somewhere in Time _which was playing on The Hallmark Channel. House groaned, but laid back to watch it anyway. He was surprised to see who the lead was played by.

"Ah! Superman!"

Cameron looked at him and smiled. "Back before he was Superman, Christopher Reeves was a time-traveling romantic."

"Who falls in love with Jane Seymour? How pathetic," he sneered, not realizing that he was being sucked into the movie.

_An old woman walked down from the theater seats to the crowd on the stage and stopped in front of Christopher __Reeves and handed him a pocket watch._

"Who's that?" House asked loudly. Cameron shushed him and kept watching.

_The woman closed his hand over the watch and whispered, "Come back to me!"_

"Come _back _to her?! Why would he want to go anywhere with her in the _first _place?" he huffed in amazement.

Cameron shushed him again, smacking him lightly on the arm.

House leaned over to Cameron. "If this is the future, why's he not all old and wrinkly like her? Is that supposed to be Dr. Quinn in the future?

_The next scene showed her back at her house, holding a copy of Richard's new play, gently running her hand over it and then clutching it to her chest._

House winced. "She's in love with _him_? What a cougar! She's, like, older than _Cuddy_! And Superman's just a little older than you!"

Cameron could tell that, as long as this movie played, he was going to be critically commenting on everything that was said and done and rolled her eyes at House. "Shut up and watch!"

The watched for a moment, in silence, until the question that had been on House's mind escaped his mouth. "They're not gonna **_do _**it, are they?"

Cameron laughed. "Not yet..."

House groaned. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard! She's _clearly _robbing the cradle! If I wanted to watch old people I'd stop by the nursing home and visit my Great Aunt Ruth."

As a commercial interrupted the movie, Cameron crawled off of the bed and walked towards the bathroom. "Why's she in a nursing home? Is she too old to take care of herself?"

"No, my parents put her in there because they couldn't keep clothes on her and she won't join a nudist colony. She's an exhibitionist," he shouted, waiting for Cameron's bound to be entertaining reaction.

"Really? How you find that out?" she yelled over the loud sound of running water.

"You don't wanna know," House snickered, shivering at thoughts that were still haunting him. "Let's just say I found out the traumatizingly hard way."

"That's not even a word, House," she said, drying her uninjured hand. Turning off the light, she threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave. "I'm sorry."

"So am I!" he smirked. "It was truly revolting! I will never be able to look at her the same again."

She laughed. "No, I meant...never mind." The microwave beeped signaling her food's readiness. She pulled the bag from it and sat on the bed, opening it to let out steam and held it out, offering some to House. He shook his head. "None for me, little lady. I'm already full from my lint-flavored Doritios."

She shrugged and turned her attention back to the TV as the movie returned.

Several times during the movie, House and Cameron seemed to alternate between sitting and laying positions, neither one of them really paying attention to each other. They seemed unnaturally comfortable with each other.

By the time the credits were rolling, House expected Cameron to be crying from an emotional high like most girls would after a sappy love story. He looked around the bed and noticed that he ended up in a sitting position, leaning against the wooden headboard, while Cameron was peacefully asleep, her head resting on House's good leg. It now made sense to him why his thigh had become somewhat numb and cactus-prickly like during the last twenty minutes of the movie.

"Cameron?" he asked, softly.

He was almost positive that Cameron had tried to say something in response, from the ghost of a murmur that came from her still body, but he couldn't make it out.

"What?" he coaxed, hoping her subconscious would speak for her.

Cameron's body shifted slightly and she took a sharp breath. She started to mutter something, but he could only make out a part of it.

"...luuuu...ewww...graaaaaaaaay..."

House swore it was his ears deceiving him. He repeated it over and over to himself in his head. _Lu ew gray? Lu ew gray?_

Maybe the second part was _you_? _Lu you grey?_ House mentally thumbed through all of the possibilities, but the closest word he could come to sounding like _Lu _was _love_. "Love you gra-"

House's eyes grew wide, startled by her subconscious confession.

"_Love you, Greg_."

That's what she'd said. His thoughts were racing, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would explode or leap from his chest.

He knew that Cameron liked him, but this was a giant step from that. She told him that she _loved _him. He was speechless. Never had so few words had such an impact on him. He repeated it, taking in the meaning of each word. He grabbed the remote and turned on HBO. Coincidentally, the show that started playing was The "L" Word. House laughed at the irony and watched the show, not aware that while his mind was somewhere else, his fingers ran gently through Cameron's hair.

He contemplated on questioning the situation, and whether it meant anything since she was clearly asleep while it happened and would most likely not remember it in the morning. Instead of dwelling, he switched it over to The Fairly Odd Parents and didn't remember falling asleep.

* * *

Empty food containers bombarded the small motel table, while Nick, Jr. played random children's programs for toddler-aged children. House lay sprawled out over the bed in an odd angle. The lack of feeling in his arm was soon explained as he found that it was now being used as a makeshift pillow for Cameron's head instead of his leg.

Even though the night before hadn't gone exactly how he'd hoped it would've, he still had a good time with Cameron. Their situation was not your typical image of romantic, but then again, they were both far from typical, therefore, it was still close to romantic in his book.

He glanced over at the clock that sat on the bedside table and was alarmed when he saw it shouted 8:50.

He growled, frustrated that he had to leave the confines of his newly blissful situation and grabbed his cell to call Hank. House dry swallowed two of his Vicodin while he waited for him to pick up.

"_This is Hank."_

"Hey, it's Hou-Greg."

"_Howdy Greg! How are things goin' for ya?"_

"Good. Listen, we're still here at the motel and I just woke up..." he explained.

"_Well, if you can be ready to go soon, I can pick y'all up on the way outta town_," he suggested.

"Sure. We'll be in the lobby then," he said.

"_10-4!_"

Snapping his phone closed, he turned to Cameron, using his free hand to nudge her awake.

Her steady pattern of breathing was interrupted by a deep yawn while she stretched every muscle she had in her body like a cat, arching her back. She then retracted her stretched limbs and pulled them back in toward her, gripping her pillow before opening her eyes. The first thing she saw was Gregory House's electric blue orbs staring right back at her, causing her to blush.

"Good morning," she said, lazily smiling at him.

"There's no coffee made. You're slacking again," he quipped, relishing in the moment. He then realized why he'd woken her up and returned to his slightly hurried state. "We have to get going or we'll miss the last train to Clarksville," he warned her, pointing to the clock.

Cameron, still hazy from just waking, looked at him sideways. "What train? And isn't this town called Bates-" she stopped midway through her sentence when it dawned on her that they had less than ten minutes to grab their stuff and be down the street. "Oh, crap!" she exclaimed, jumping out of bed and ripping her pajamas off, grabbing for her clean clothes.

House's jaw dropped as Cameron hastily undressed in front of him. For reasons unknown and which could not be explained, he turned around to let Cameron have a little modesty. It's not like he didn't want to stare at her scantily clad body, but something deep inside of him told him to look away, so he listened to his rarely heard of conscious and turned his cheek.

Cameron buckled her jeans, grabbed the trashcan from the bathroom and ran back to the table to try and scoop up everything and let it fall into the garbage bag.

House grabbed her by the arm and stopped her. "Leave it," he said, motioning for the door.

Cameron protested, not wanting to make someone else clean up her mess, even if they paid them for it. "But, we can't-"

"Leave it, woman! It's what they pay housekeepers for," he repeated, dragging her to her bags and waiting for her by the door.

"But...House? The mirror!" she said worriedly, as she grabbed her bags and headed towards the door after him.

House rolled his eyes. "I can't carry it _and _my bag too, but I promise when we get home, I'll buy you a brand new one that's never been substituted for a whiteboard."

She set their things outside as House leaned his cane against the outside wall, and closed the door, making sure it was locked.

He grabbed Cameron, who'd been standing next to him, and pinned her against the hollowed out wooden door with a loud thud. She gasped at the sudden move made as he leaned down and caught her lips with his, both sets of theirs, dancing in a symphony of unspoken desire. They moaned appreciatively into each other's mouths, while House ran his fingers through Cameron's beautiful brown hair and down the small of her back.

He reluctantly broke the kiss, grinning smugly at her, and grabbed his bags. As he started towards the lobby, leaving Cameron in shock and left in the wake of his melting kiss. She mentally resurfaced as she heard him yell over his shoulder, "Feel free to swipe a towel or two, though!"

* * *

"Shotgun!" House yelled as he and Cameron threw their bags in the back of Hank's Harley Davidson Edition F-150. Cameron climbed into the back and House lifted himself into the passenger seat, stretching out his right leg.

Five minutes into driving, Cameron had passed out once again, and House was left to talk to Hank.

"So," started Hank, nodding hid head towards Cameron's unconscious body, "you tell 'er yet?"

House arched his left brow at him. "Why do you care?"

Hank shrugged. "Lost my wife about seven years ago."

Talking about his feelings was starting to make House uncomfortable. "So, you want to see if I failed so you can try after I give up, is that it?"

Hank laughed. "It may've been a long time since I've felt it, but I know a couple in love when I see 'em."

He scoffed. "We're not a couple and she's just trying to get with me so she can get to what she's really after; my cane."

"Yeah. That must be it," he said, sarcastically. "No, seriously, though, if you don't make a move, she might fall for Jeff. Now," he held up his hand, "don't get me wrong. His mother and I tried to raise him as best as we could, but when it came to teaching him to attract the ladies, I'm afraid he surpassed my skills and became top rooster, if you catch my drift."

House looked at Hank in surprise. "So the vermin's yours, huh?" Hank nodded and smiled.

"Well, tell him to back off. She's mine," he warned him, protectively.

"Are ya really engaged, or did you just tell him that to ruffle up his feathers?"

"I find threats usually work when they're backed with lies."

"You're not lying about your mare, are ya?" he teased him slightly, with a knowledgeable grin.

Assuming that he was referring to Cameron, House replied. "No, but she won't leave me."

Hank was surprised by his assumption. "She say that?"

He shook his head.

"Then how do you know for sure?"

"Because," he said, "she loves me."

"And you love her back?" he asked, already knowing the answer. House nodded.

"Then what's the last hurdle in the way?" he asked.

House huffed. "There's a list a globe-wide long."

"Well, better start let her start shooting them down now, so you can get over them all by the time we get to New Orleans."

House half-smiled and grabbed his iPod, losing himself in his music until they made it to their new destination.

"Well, here we are!" Hank announced to his passengers, jumping from the truck. House leaned into the backseat and playfully smacked Cameron on the side of her shin to wake her up. She sleepily lifted her head and looked confusingly out the window and then up at House.

"Where are we?" she asked, rubbing her hands over her face.

He opened his door and unlatched the back door for her. "Only steps away from insanity."

His last comment had her puzzled. "What?" she asked, looking at him with her head cocked to the side.

He frowned. "Nevermind. I use that line when Wilson talks about the clinic."

"Ok," she said, tiredly accepting that as an explanation. "Where'd Hank go?"

He lifted his cane to point towards the house. "I think he went to drag his daffy sister out here so we can get the heck outta' Dodge."

She nodded and took in the scenery around her. There was a lot of land that the farmhouse sat on, surrounded by tall trees. A lonely hammock hung between two Weeping Willow trees, giving off a lazy and relaxing feeling. The whole area looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. She almost didn't notice that Hank was walking back to the truck.

"Ok, she's already in the car, so if you wanna grab your stuff, we can transfer it to the car and make a break for it," he said, pointing to a maroon Ford Taurus that sat parked nearby. They hoisted their bags from the bed of the truck and crammed them into the trunk of the Taurus. Hank climbed into the passenger seat, while Cameron followed behind and sat in the seat behind him. House limped around to the other side and climbed in the back, placing his cane in between his legs.

Hank looked over to the driver, who could only be assumed as his sister. "These are the relief workers I was telling you about."

He turned to House and Cameron, "Guys, this is my crazy sister-in-law."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm Allison. Thank you for the ride. We really appreciate it," said Cameron, smiling uneasily at the woman who simply nodded and didn't even have the decency to turn around and properly introduce herself.

House narrowed his eyes at Cameron. "Maybe she's a mute. Which would be great! That would make us again one less female yakking away about hair, nails, and how hot Brad Pitt is..."

The driver reached up to the rear view mirror and turned it so that she could get a good look at her sarcastic passenger, and vise-versa. She was grinning maliciously at him.

"Hello...Greg."

House stared disbelievingly into the mirror and nodded. "Satan."

* * *

A/N2: For those of you who didn't catch it, Hank's sister-in-law is Stacy. Warner? Yes, Stacy Warner AKA The Ex. You're probably all wondering why she's there, but I'll have her explain it in the next chappy. **Review please!**


	21. And It Ain't Even Over

**_A/N1: New chapter, hope you all like it!_**

**_Disclaimer: Why bother? I own nothing but the right to diss Stacy Warner. It's a free country..._**

**_Spoilers: Watch more House and there won't be any!_**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

_**And It Ain't Even Over**_

_House stared disbelievingly into the mirror and nodded. "Satan."_

_How could she know that we were here? Has she been following us? _he wondered.

Stacy frowned. "A bit harsh, don't you think?"

"You put up with it for five years, and you're just _now_ offended? Well smack my butt and call me Shirley! If I'd only known what I know now, back then I would've been…"

"Just as sarcastic?" she asked, arching a perfectly waxed brow.

He tapped his cane against the carpet. "I was shooting for 'gone before you could say "thigh go bye-bye", but that works too."

Cameron's stomach churned as the reality of the woman driver sunk in. _Stacy's here. Stacy Warner is driving us to New Orleans. The woman I hate with a passion. I hate her for what she did to House. I hate her for what she did to her own husband. Why is she here? Oh, no! Maybe she__'s going to kill us! She'll drive us off into a ditch or straight into a semi… _

Hank glanced nervously between House and his sister. "I take it y'all know each other?"

House continued to glare at Stacy in the rear-view. Stacy turned to her confused brother-in-law. "Greg and I used to be…_involved_…back before I worked at Princeton."

Hank sent his surprised stare to the man in the backseat who simply ignored him.

Looking over at a panicky Cameron, House pointed to the built in pouch on the back of the chair. "There are barf bags located in there if you need one from all of the nauseating B.S. that seems to be radiating from a certain person."

Cameron did start to feel sick from the awkwardness of the driver and watched House turn back to cut down Stacy some more.

"So, if you're here, who's running Hell? You know, you might want to get back down there...there were some rumors of Cuddy trying to overpower you and seize your throne."

"The place'll freeze over before I let _that _happen," Stacy smirked, backing the car out of the driveway and pulling forward.

Cameron shrunk down into her seat and looked out the window. Being stuck in a tiny car with the man she loved, his ex-lover, and her husband's brother, was beginning to make _Alcatraz_ seem more inviting. She was far from ignorant on the subject of their past relationship, pre and post Mark, and the rest of it was what she didn't want to know about. She reached into the bag she kept on hand with her, and pulled out her iPod, feverishly equipping the earpieces.

House sensed the tension radiating from both passenger seats. He glanced over at Cameron who'd been clenching tightly against the door handle, but was starting to relax to her music. She was uncomfortable, maybe perhaps jealous even, but she tried hard not to show the second one, even though House could sniff it out like day old cheese. He glanced back at Hank and silently pleaded with him, desperately wanting the mood to be lightened. Luckily, Hank had received his message loud and clear. Looking back on the interactions that took place between House and his sister, adding on the things that were said, he quickly put two and two together.

Hank subtly winked at House when Stacy wasn't looking. "So," he said, facing her, "did you hear the good news?"

"What news?" she asked.

"That he's getting married," Hank said, grinning at House, who looked back at him, quizzically. _What are you up to, cowboy? _He peered over at Cameron, who was still too deep into her music to hear the conversation, and grinned. _I think Hank's plan could go perfectly_, he thought.

"Who?" she asked.

"Him," said Hank, refering to House.

Stacy looked confused. "Him who?"

Hank sighed and nodded to House in the backseat, who was watching in amusement. "Him, that's who!"

She pointed to him. _"Him?!"_

House wickedly grinned at her. "Me."

Stacy laughed. "Huh. I guess I'll have to call Wilson to congratulate him then, too."

Hank and House both looked deadly serious at Stacy. It was so convincing that Stacy did a double take. This was not House's sarcastic face. After seeing it very seldom during years of dating, she recognized this as his rare "I-give-at-least-a-little-crap" caring face. She was half tempted to pull over, but continued driving with half her attention span directed towards the road.

"You're not joking? Wow...what's her name? Or did they forget to include it in the crate she was shipped in? I'll bet she's got a major case of jet lag."

House pretended to contemplate her quip. He then leaned over, tapping Cameron on the shoulder and waited until she looked at him to pull out her left earbud.

"Tired?" he asked nonchalantly.

She nodded. "Uh...yeah, I usually fall asleep on long trips," she explained. She waited for a moment to see if that was all he wanted, and when he didn't move to ask her anything else, she felt uncomfortable with the awkward silence and pushed the earpiece back in, turning back to look out her window.

House looked back to Stacy whose eyes were bulging largely.

"_Her?_"

House felt a slight tinge of anger overcome him at the sound of Stacy's shocked question, but it was quickly hidden in a fog of smugness that soon clouded the space between the occupants of the small sedan. "What? Think I'm robbing the cradle?"

"Cradle? HA! Try the womb!" she shot back incredulously.

He sneered. "I have no need for parasites. Besides, baby stealing's not my forte. Although I think Cuddy's contemplating a kidnaping; I've caught her hovering over the nursery on her lunch breaks. Probably trying to scope out the security on the place so she can relay it to Foreman later on. Foreman steals the baby and hands it off to Cuddy who, as Hospital Administrator, claims to be totally ignorant of the whole thing and takes nine months off to risk being caught. It's the ultimate flawless plan."

"And you don't think the baby's parents are going to be any wiser that their newborn is missing?" she asked, irritated.

"Bribe 'em enough and they could buy a dozen more!"

Hank said nothing but shook his head.

Stacy shook her pointer finger at House through the rear-view mirror. "You see? _This _is why Cuddy hired me at Princeton in the first place."

House looked falsely confused. "To bribe parents for their babies? You're in on this conspiracy too? You should be ashamed of yourself! Here, all this time, I suspected you were hired for your _wonderful life-threatening medical making decisions!_" House's voice was flooded by angry sarcasm.

Stacy sighed. "Greg, how many times are you going to throw that back in my face before you realize that I saved your life! I made the right call."

"You think so?" he challenged her.

Stacy, feeling strong in her decision, nodded. "You're still alive," she said, as if the words were a way of him "looking on the bright side."

He thought back to the conversation that he'd over heard Cameron fighting so desperately to defend him in earlier. _Maybe I can get her to say something on my behalf._

"Let's get a medical professional's second opinion, shall we?" he said, tapping Cameron on the shoulder once again. Once again, Cameron turned to him, giving him her undivided attention.

"What is it, House?"

Hank's ears perked up at the mention of his name, and he seemed to grow a little bitter. "_You're _House? As in, Dr. House?"

House looked up at Hank. "Yup! Got my own stethoscope and everything," he joked. "Why?"

Hank narrowed his eyes at him. "I've just...heard of you, but I didn't you that you were him."

He didn't believe him. There was definitely more reason behind that look of surprise, but he made a mental note to ask him about it late and turned back to a confused looking Cameron.

"A patient who's handsome, witty, and an absolute genius, say me for example, has listed you as his medical proxy. Unfortunately, he's suffering from a severe form of necrosis. Either they removed it or I risk the possibility of dying. I don't want to die, but I choose to do nothing and see if my body improves. You talk to Cuddy who walks up to you in the hallway, twins bouncing like on a trampoline, and suggests a third choice- removing only the damaged muscle. You ask me and I say no before they put me to sleep. Cuddy then asks you what your decision is. What, prey tell, do you say?"

Cameron shut off her iPod. She knew this was about him and the decision Stacy made. "As a doctor, it would seem that the safest way would be amputation to ensure no future problems occur to the limb. Medically, there's also a chance that removing only what was affected, would keep you alive..."

"_Thank _you!" Stacy exclaimed, slamming her palms against the steering wheel. "_Someone _understands!"

Cameron glared at Stacy, but returned to House's deep stare and continued, "but, it would leave you in a constant state of pain for the rest of your life."

Stacy sighed. "Well now, I guess, 'thank you' doesn't exactly apply here anymore, now does it?"

House ignored Stacy, sensing that Cameron wasn't finished.

"As a..." She stopped, hesitantly searching for another word to say instead of the one on her mind. "...friend, or a...a..."

"Lover?" House suggested, looking deep into Cameron's eyes, making her swallow hard and nod.

"Or that," she blushed. "And as your proxy, I would tell Cuddy to put you under for the worst part of it and make sure noone carrying a scalpel came within a hundred feet of you." Her reply was laced with a protective caring, one only seen in someone who loved someone so whole heartedly.

Stacy grew angry, not believing the words that came from the timid woman sitting behind her. "You love him _so _much, that you'd sit there and let him _die_?"

"If that's what he wanted to do, then, yes."

"He gave you the choice to make a decision when his life is at stake. Why not make the one that's going to without a doubt, save his life?"

House searched Cameron's eyes. "It's your call," he reminded her, coaxing her, as if he were waiting for her to change her answer. Cameron remained headstrong about the decision she would've made, and as she announced her hypothetical decision to the occupants of the car, she handed him her heart with every word she spoke.

"It's. YOUR. Leg."

"But _you _have to live with the choice you make for the rest of your life," Stacy warned her.

She snorted at the audacity that Stacy had to even say something so selfish, and glared at her. "No!" she said, forcefully, gesturing to House, "_**he **_has to live, painfully, with the choice _you _made _**for **_him."

"Yes, he gets to live! How evil of me to save his life! It's more than he would've been able to do had I not had them remove what they did. I did what was best for Greg," Stacy said, defending herself.

"_You _did what was best for _yourself_. If you were the slightest bit worried about what was best for him, you would've told them all to back off!" Cameron retorted.

Stacy snorted in anger, turning to her brother-in-law. "What would you have done, Hank?"

He looked at her, frightened by her evil glare that screamed 'Agree with me or _die_!', before turning to face an ardent Cameron and an amused House, who sympathetically nodded for him to answer the question.

"The truth? I'd a' kicked back and waited to see what happened." He shuddered at the cold glare he got from Stacy.

"Traitor..." she snapped at him.

He shrugged. "Well, it was his decision and if he was of sound mind, as sound as anyone can be given an outlook like that, then I would go with that choice."

"I bet you'd only say that because it's the choice I didn't make, and since Greg's mad at me, you'd automatically win with him if you chose the other option," Stacy sneered at Cameron.

House looked down to see Cameron had balled her injured palm into a fist, ready to lunge forward at Stacy. As much as he wanted to see her get knocked out, he reminded himself that she was their ride, and they had to get to New Orleans somehow.

"Why, you selfish, uncaring, old-" Cameron sneered through gritted teeth, her knuckles turning white. She held it so tightly it started to shake.

Stacy gasped. "Who're you callin' old?"

"Ladies! We'll have none of _that _in this car. Now, kiss and make out."

Hank raised a brow. "Don't ya mean, 'up'?"

"If i had said, up, it wouldn't be as much fun. This way, it's like making up, only more _saucy_," House smirked.

Both females were still raging mad at each other. To disrupt the cat fight, House blanketing his hand over Cameron's fist, which was target-locked and aimed for the side of Stacy's face, and felt it relax considerably underneath him. Glancing back up to Cameron's face, he noticed it had softened greatly, and she was looking back at him in confusion. He moved his thumb over her gentle skin and gave her a slight smile.

Trying not to hold her gaze for too long, in fear of it being noticed by anyone, he looked at Hank. "So...Hank. Ya like football?" Hank nodded.

"Who do you root for?" he asked. It was a lame conversation starter, but he was willing to do just about anything to keep Stacy from upsetting Cameron again.

Hank caught on to the detour of conversation and joined in. "Dallas," he said, a smile growing on his face. "Gotta love them Cowgirls!"

House's eyes lit up as he found that he could finally have a testosterone-filled conversation with someone with a common interest. Wilson didn't count in that area 3/4ths of the time. "Ever seen Deb-"

"Debbie Does Dallas?" Hank laughed. "Pure classic!"

Stacy and Cameron, aside from their differences, both groaned and rolled their eyes at the guys who were acting like sex-crazed teenagers. Cameron pulled her hand away from House's, as much as she didn't want to, and restarted her iPod and turned it up to tune out the discussion. Stacy was left to turn on the radio, but the tunes still couldn't block out their lewd comments.

* * *

Half-way there, they started to get low on fuel, so Stacy pulled off of the highway and turned onto an exit that claimed to provide fuel. They followed the green country road until it wound around to an old gas station.

It was an ancient station that seemed pretty run down, but was alive as ever. The pumps were speedometer-like with numbers that rotated by dials, and were surrounded by a white-rock gravel parking lot. Hank got out and pumped gas, while Stacy headed inside to pay. Cameron looked at Cameron who took her seatbelt off and opened her door.

Before she got out, she looked at House. "I'm going to grab something cold to drink. Do you want anything?"

"A tranquilizer?" he said hopefully.

She chuckled. "Is there anything I can get you that won't allow you to leave me stranding me in the conscious world with poor Hank against Lucy?"

"Lucy?" he asked.

"Female nickname for Lucifer," she explained.

"You have a strange sense of humor," he said, giving her a ghost of a smile. "Grab me an energy drink that doesn't taste like crap," he commanded, reaching for his wallet.

Cameron held up her hand. "I've got it," she said, walking towards the run down building. He watched as she and Stacy exchanged looks as she came walking out of the store and towards the car. He climbed out of the car and limped over to a broken down payphone, with no intention of using it, but to take advantage of it's privacy. He whipped out his cell phone and called Wilson.

* * *

**_Back at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital..._**

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Harris," Wilson said, breaking bad news to his newest patient, "but the cancer has spread and it's location had made it inop-"

"_You're the talk of the town...Mr. Tangerine Speedo! How you get around... Mr. Tangerine... _

_La la la la la la la la!..."_

Wilson closed his eyes and groaned to himself in frustration. That was not his ringtone! He grabbed his phone from his pocket and silenced it, as the caller ID, confirming his suspicion of who changed his default ringtone. He placed it back in his pocket.

"I'm sorry," he apologized to his shocked patient. "As I was saying, Mrs. Harris, it's hard to say how long you'll have, but I've seen patients with this condition go on to-"

"_You're the talk of the town...Mr. Tangerine Speedo..."_

Wilson sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket again.

_House._

He frowned and looked pleadingly to his terminal patient. "Mrs. Harris, would you please excuse me? My pregnant wife is calling, and I have a feeling she might be going into labor," he lied.

Mrs. Harris, in tears, nodded and watched as Wilson stepped out onto his balcony and answered his phone.

"Angel of Death speaking."

"More like Angel of Divorce," House smirked.

"I'm with a patient right now."

"Is she dying?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, she is. Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Stage Four."

"Today?"

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "Possibly a week or two."

"Then she can wait. I need your help."

"What you need, my friend, is a psychiatrist and I am far from one."

"You watch Oprah. You'll do, Dr. Phil."

Wilson sighed, exasperatedly. "Let me guess. She got close, you pushed her away, now she's upset and it's bothering you."

House took a moment to reword his guess into an answer to throw back at him. "She's getting close, I _want_ to push her away, she's upset, and it doesn't bother me, but she's definitely ticked off Cameron. You should've seen her, I swear she was going to rip her face off. It was so hot!"

Wilson shook his head. "What are you talking about, House? Cameron's the sweetest person I know."

House chuckled. "Underneath that caring Princess Di exterior is a Beatrix Kidd, waiting to be unleashed."

"Who angered the pacifist? You didn't order a hooker, did you?"

"Close. She's a lawyer."

"Your hooker's a lawyer?" Wilson asked, suddenly confused.

House sighed. "No, my lawyer's a hooker," he said facetiously. "It's Stacy, moron."

"Ok, I'm lost. What does Stacy have to do with anything?"

"She's here. Driving us to New Orleans and making Cameron wanting to deck her."

Wilson's eyes went wide. "Stacy's _there_? _How_? _Why_?"

"I'm guessing to make me miserable. Or to cry on my shoulder after she tells me her pimp Mark left her."

"Did she tell you why she's there?"

House cleared his throat. "Apparently, she's our mechanic's brother's wife."

Wilson figured it in his head. "Your mechanic is Mark's brother?"

"Hank."

"Hank?"

"As in Hank Williams, Jr. And he talks like 'im too. She's here to rescue Mark's cat."

"She's going to New Orleans to save a cat? I thought she was allergic to cats."

"No, she's not."

"But I thought that's why you never had a cat."

"No, we didn't have on because I'm allergic."

Wilson snorted. "It's probably already fish fodder," he said, running his hand through his hair.

"I said 'shark bait'. Anyway, she's spouting off about saving my life and ruining my vacation. Make her go away, Jimmy!" he whined, childishly.

"Have you told Cameron how you feel, yet?"

House remained silent, giving Wilson his answer.

Wilson's cheeks puffed up with air, and he slowly let his breath out. "I don't know what to tell you, House, other than side with the one you want to be with."

"Great advice," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll let you get back to Miss Two-Weeks-To-Go."

"House," Wilson said, stopping him from hanging up.

"Yeah?"

Wilson arched a brow. "Did you change my ringtone when I left my phone in my office the other day?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Mr. Speedo."

Wilson was about to reply, but House had already hung up.

After he explained everything to Mrs. Harris, he left his office and knocked on the door of Cuddy's. Upon entering, he found she wasn't busy at all, just filling out some paperwork.

"Hey, Dr. Wilson, what can I do for you?" she asked, looking up at him.

He stood there, not sure what to say or how to phrase what he was about to ask her. He put his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed it, trying not to be nervous.

"Who all knows that House and Cameron are on thier way to Louisiana?"

Cuddy thought for a moment. "You, myself, Dr. Foreman, and Dr. Chase, I believe. Why?"

"Are you sure that's it?" he asked, uneasily.

Cuddy nodded. "That's everyone I've told. Why? What's wrong?"

Wilson brought his hand back down and stuck it in the pocket of his lab coat. "Stacy's down there."

Cuddy dropped her papers. "What?" she asked, wondering if she heard wrong.

"Stacy Warner is down there with them. And, apparently, Cameron's on the defensive about it."

"What is Stacy doing down there? There's no possible way it's a coincidence. She had to have found out from someone that he would be down there."

Wilson nodded in agreement. "But how would she find out? And why would she go down there? What happened to Mark?"

Cuddy shook her head and picked up her phone's receiver. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out who's behind her showing up." She paged House's other ducklings and soon Chase and Foreman filed into her office.

Cuddy looked them both in the eyes. "I just received word that Stacy is on her way down to New Orleans. Either one of you know why?"

Cuddy watched as Foreman shook his head no, but picked up right away that Chase hung his head low. Everyone turned to him. "Chase?" He nodded silently.

Cuddy looked at Wilson and Foreman and sighed. "Now what do we do?"

Wilson shrugged. "Pray he doesn't ruin it."

Cuddy and Foreman groaned simultaneously. "He's screwed..."

* * *

House snapped his phone shut and looked up in time to see Cameron walking towards him. Smiling at him, she handed him a tall boy of MDX.

"Gracias," he said, popping it open.

"De Nada," she replied. She noticed that he seemed to be a little nervous. "Is everything okay?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Question is, are you? I thought for sure World War IIII was going to break out.

Cameron chuckled. "You mean, World War III?"

House displayed a straight face. "No, I meant four."

"There were only two World Wars, House."

House smiled. "Ah! Clearly you've never been to a House Family Reunion after my dad's shown up."

"Are you saying that your dad's the Atomic Bomb?"

"Only when it comes to me. To everyone else, he's pretty civilized."

"He loves you, you know," she said, placing her hand on his arm.

"Loves to hate me, maybe," he sneered. They all climbed into the car and Stacy pulled back out onto the highway, hoping to make it to New Orleans in good time.

Cameron could sense that this conversation about his father needed to take a drastic turn. "Lots of people don't understand you. Since when do you care about what people think?" she said, with a slight grin.

House looked into her eyes, returning her slight smile. "Since I met you."

* * *

_A/N2: Hello! Please review, I think I'm sensing an oncoming case of writer's block and I think the encouragement will help. Thanks!_


	22. Here Comes Drivin' Rain

A/N: I hate Stacy. You hate Stacy. We all hate Stacy, I know, but things always get worse before they get better. Please don't hate me, just let me know what you think!

Spoilers: If you havn't seen the episode, you won't know if any of this was or wasn't a part of it. : D

**CHAPTER WARNING!** Angst! (I promise, Stacy will get lost eventually...)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

_**Here Comes Drivin' Rain**_

_Meanwhile, in Cuddy's Office at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital..._

"Let me get this straight," Cuddy said, her face buried in her hands. She moved them to gently kneaded her temples, in the attempt to rub away the migraine that was quickly forming. "You told Stacy...that House was on his way to New Orleans?"

Chase stood sheepishly in front of her. "Well, not exactly. I said that he was in Mississippi."

Foreman shook his head, while Wilson paced behind them both and swiped his hand over his mouth in frustration.

Cuddy folded her hands, intertwining her fingers, and rested her chin on them. "Care to explain to me what possessed you to tell her that?"

"Because she asked me where he was, so I just thought-"

"Well, you thought wrong!" Cuddy snapped sternly. "Stacy is no longer employed here and what Doctor House does in his own free time is his business, not ours, therefore, we have no right to go telling people where he is. The same goes for all of the employees here at this hospital; yourself included." She took a deep breath. "Ok, now, did Stacy know that Doctor Cameron was going to be there?"

Chase's guilt deepened. "Yes."

"Fantastic," she groaned sarcastically. "And, just what is it that you get out of all of this, Dr. Chase? The satisfaction of ruining Dr. House's vacation, or Dr. Cameron's?"

He said nothing, but thought back to what had happened.

"Well?" Wilson said, pressing the issue.

Chase looked behind him at Wilson's angry expression and let his gaze fall shamefully to the floor and over to Foreman. After not receiving any leniency or support from him, he glanced back at Cuddy.

She sighed. "What happened, Chase?"

_Start Chase's Flashback_

Chase sat in the conference room that morning, pouting after discovering that House had somehow gotten to join Cameron on her vacation and not him. He glanced periodically at the paperwork in front of him that was left from his (Dr. House's) clinic duty, but found he was having a hard time concentrating on anything else.

Just then, a startling knock was heard, making him nearly jump out of his skin. Looking up, he found Stacy looking back at him in curiosity through the glass door. He closed the open file in front of him and motioned for her to come in.

Stacy opened the door and looked frantically around the room, starting at House's office and working her way towards the table that Chase sat at.

"Hey, Chase. Have you seen Greg around?"

Chase frowned and snorted without thinking. "He's not in right now. Anything I can help you with?"

"I just...need to talk to him, that's all. Do you know where he is?"

Chase huffed. _Yeah. He's shaking up with my girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend. They're probably making out in a motel room somewhere. I'll bet House simply winked at her and she jumped him, _he thought. The images of something disgustingly sinful between his boss and co-worker had his face scrunching up in disgust. He shuddered at the thought.

Stacy narrowed her eyes as she watched Chase's expression change. "Are you okay?"

His attention was drawn back from the sickening thoughts forming and shook his head. "No, not really."

"You look like you're about to throw up."

He nodded. "Something to that effect," he agreed.

Stacy accepted this and pressed the issue that brought her there. "Well, if you hear from Greg, would you let him know that I've got something very important to discuss with him."

He looked at her, annoyed by her persistence to always try to get House back. "Stacy...you're married. Mark's a great guy. Why can't you just be happy with _him_?"

She folded her arms. "I really don't think that my personal life is any of your business."

Chase sensed her agitation. "It became my business when you ask me to play messenger," he retorted. "What do you think is going to happen? You tell him you left Mark and now you two can run off into the sunset together?"

"I need him to sign some papers," she insisted.

Chase laughed to himself. "Getting sued again, huh? He must have the largest malpractice insurance deductible in the whole field of medicine. What is it now? The guy with Syphilis from last week, or did Cuddy finally get tired of his comments on her blouses?"

"Neither," she breathed. "Just...do you know where he is?"

_End Chase's Flashback_

* * *

_Inside Stacy's Taurus, State Border of Arkansas and Louisiana..._

"I spy, with my incredible superhuman eye, something red," said House, smiling at the confused look on her face. This game had been going on for a good hour and a half, and they both knew House was winning, but barely.

"Is it, the paint of the car?" guessed Cameron.

"Nope," he replied.

"Is it...the radio display?" she guessed.

"Nu-uh," he said, shaking his head.

Cameron looked up front at Stacy and chuckled to herself.

"Is it..." she started, but stopped in fear of Stacy or Hank hearing her. Holding up her pointer finger, she turned her hand upside down and wiggled her it, motioning for House to come closer to her. She may have not meant it to mean much, but the playful "come hither" look she shot him was really getting him excited. Nervously, but not showing it, he leaned over and let Cameron whisper in his ear, her hand cupping her mouth.

"Stacy's eyes?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure they flared that color ever since the discussion we had earlier."

As they pulled back, he was practically blinded by the 1000 watt smile she beamed at him. He grinned back at her and, to everyone's surprise; including his, he laughed. Stacy had never heard him laugh like this, though. It was a real laugh, pure and genuine, which made her furious with jealousy when she looked in the mirror to see him looking almost lovingly down at Cameron.

Hank noticed this and tried to start up a conversation with Stacy about how much further they had to go until they got to New Orleans. He was starting to get angry with her and felt sorry for his brother; his wife's concern was way more focused on Greg than it was on rescuing their 'beloved cat'.

After all, that was the whole reason she was going to their vacation house.

Wasn't it?

"Want a hint?" he asked, still grinning. She nodded, and leaned in when House motioned for her to come closer.

"It's red and _lacy_," he whispered loudly, not caring if Stacy had heard him.

Cameron blushed at her guess, debating whether or not to even verbally ask it. House knew she had guessed right when he saw her cheeks turn a cool Barbie pink to a dark crimson color.

"Go ahead, guess," he said, a look of lust in his eyes. "And, no, it's not your face, although it's getting that color."

She glared at him, but her smile broke back through. "Of course it's not. My face isn't _lacy_."

"Not...in this light," he teased her. _It's beautiful_, he thought. "So, what is it?" he coaxed, wondering if she'd actually say the words he was dying to hear.

"It's my thong, isn't it?" she said in disbelief that he would pick something he couldn't see.

He grinned victoriously.

She sat there and stared at him in shock. "You cheated!"

"What?" he cried. "I did not!"

"Yes you did," she insisted. "You can't see through my clothes!"

"Sure I can. I have X-Ray superpowers. Hank's wearing boxers with cute little hearts all over them."

Stacy rolled her eyes. "No he's not, Greg!"

Hank laughed. "No, I'm not."

House smiled at Cameron. "Double no. That's a definite 'yes'. That's why I also said, "my _incredible superhuman _eye."

She raised a brow at him. "What's your superhero name? Mr. Facetious?"

"By day, I'm Dr. Gregory House. By night, I'm The Dangerously Endowed Diagnostician. Keep that on the down low. I don't want to be mauled by a stampede of screaming girls."

"Yeah, because you're like Elvis," Cameron laughed. "So, if you don't want people to know, why'd you tell me?"

Keeping the conversation light, but letting a little bit of seriousness show, he replied. "Because, I trust you."

In the middle of a ridiculous conversation, was the sparkle of a declaration of truth. Butterflies filled her stomach and Cameron felt like a giddy teenager who was just asked out by the hottest guy in school. The last time she felt like this, was with her husband. Her husband used to make her happy.

House made her happy.

Stacy was so surprised by House's confession that she almost missed the line of cars backed up in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and stopped a half of an inch behind the white SUV.

A chorus of "Dang!", "Holy Crap!", and "What the heck?" filled the car as they all scolded Stacy for stopping so violently.

"Well, I can't help it! Sorry," she apologized, "but there's a stream of cars in front of us. Traffic jam's worse than New York City at rush hour."

After ten minutes, they'd be lucky if they made it a foot farther than where they started. "What's the hold up?" whined Stacy. "We'll never get there."

"Car accident?" Hank asked, sticking his head out the window to see better.

"Probably pirates, plundering people as they drive by. Or a hippie protest against the government," said House, also trying to get a better view.

"If it's an accident, we should go check it out. We could help," Cameron suggested.

"Do we have to?" he whined. Sometimes, Cameron really did care _too _much.

"There could be people hurt up there, House! Or even, _dying_!"

He growled in frustration. _Dang it! I shouldn't be fixing dying people on my vacation! I should be drinking cocktails under palm branches being waved by cabana babes, while native women feed me seedless grapes and rub me down with hot oil_, he said to himself, while fantasizing. _Besides, I need to get Stacy alone, find out what her evil plan is._

"I can't walk way up there, CareBear. Cripple, remember?"

"_Carebear_?" Stacy asked in disgust.

Cameron rolled her eyes at Stacy and shook her head at House. _Whatever_, she thought. _Lazy ol'man. _She didn't really see him as old, as all, but he never stopped reminding her that she was a lot older than she was.

"Fine, I'll go by myself," she said, removing her seat belt. "Maybe save a life or something," she mumbled.

House silently gestured to Hank to go with her.

"I'll go with ya, Allison," Hank volunteered, fumbling with his belt as well.

House smiled triumphantly. "See? Hank'll go with ya."

She started to open the door to climb out of the car, but gave a worried look that alternated between him and Stacy. House waved the back of his hand at her, swatting her out of the car, and scooted over into Cameron's seat, which was still warm. She turned around to close the door, but was stopped when she felt House grip on her arm. Their gazes met, silently conducting their own conversation. Cameron's silent pleas of worry were calmed and soothed by his own mute stares of reassurance.

His mouth said, "Hurry up, we don't have all day", but his eyes said, "I'll miss you, come back soon." Decoding this, after several years of studying Housian, Cameron let out a small nod and a weary smile. He slightly nodded back, thankful that he didn't have to express any emotion in front of the other woman, who would question him for it later, and reluctantly released his hold on her.

"Be right back," she said to House, who watched her glance dangerously at Stacy, before following Hank. His eyes followed her disappearing figure until she was out of sight.

"So," he said, turning to Stacy. "What are you doing here, Stacy?"

"Didn't Hank tell you? We have a vacation house in New Orleans and I'm here to get-"

"Mark's cat?" he laughed. "Don't give me that load of bull! We both know perfectly well that you hate cats."

She shook her head. "I don't _hate _them," she insisted.

"You like kittens because they're cute, cuddly, and playfully adorable, but you hate when they get older because they act like me, stubborn and rebellious. You wanted one when we were together, but I said no.

"You're allergic. I'd rather have you than the stupid cat." Her head dropped as she realized the mistake she made.

_Trapped by the words she spoke herself! _House thought, smirking smugly. "_Exactly_! So, I repeat, what are you _really _doing here, Stacy?"

* * *

_Somewhere between Stacy's Taurus and the Front of the Line..._

People watched curiously out of their side windows as the beautiful young woman and her older redneck-looking friend, made her way towards the front of the line of cars.

"You shouldn't let her get to you," said Hank, glancing sideways at Cameron.

His words caught her off guard. "What?" she asked.

"Stace. I know she comes off a real dog, but 'er bark's really worse than 'er bite," he assured her.

Cameron chuckled in spite of herself, from the combination of canine remarks, wondering if he meant it to come out that way. "No offense, Hank, but she's more like a siren or a succubus than a dog."

"None taken," he said, smiling. "But I don' think you've got anything ta worry about. Looks like he's already been branded by someone else."

Sometimes it was tough for Cameron to follow Hank's country-like metaphors, but this one was pretty clear to her, and a red tint crept up onto her face. "I somehow doubt that anyone could _brand _him."

"Why's that?" he asked, causing her to think for an reply. She smiled as she took Hank's branding metaphor and ran with it, in her mind.

* * *

_Back inside Stacy's Taurus..._

"If you have a cat now, it's because it's Mark's and you only pretend to like it. You wouldn't like it so much that you would volunteer and risk the possibility of drowning to save it?"

"Fine, the cat's not the only reason I'm here," she confessed. He always was good at analyzing her.

"Oh, goody. Time to make the jail bird sing," he said, tapping his cane into the floorboard.

Stacy grabbed her purse and pulled out a stack of papers that were folded in half. "I came here to get your signature on these," she said, holding them up for him to see.

He frowned and waved for her to hand them over. "I saved someone's life and you traveled thousands of miles to get me to sign settlement papers for the hospital? Cameron's good at signing things like this for me. I'll have her give it the 'Extra Caring Greg House' touch. Loopy 'G' and all."

"As kind that is of her, they're legal documents, and I'm going to have to insist that you sign them yourself," she said, handing him a pen.

Sighing, he took the pen from her. "Whatever it'll take to make you go away," he muttered, unfolding the papers. Skimming through the first line, like he always did, he noticed the wording was different. "Uh, yeah..." he said, drawing it out. "I think you gave me the wrong paperwork, Miss Lawyer lady," he said, looking up at her.

"Do they have your typed on them?" she asked.

"Yes..." he said, drawing it out again, "but it's a mistake. You messed up the paperwork."

Stacy took the papers from him, skimmed it and smiled before handing them back. "Nope, this is the right document. Sign at the bottom, please."

He took them back at shook his head in disbelief. "Stacy...these aren't "You saved and/or killed my husband and I'm suing you" papers. These are "We did the nasty and you didn't pay me enough the first time, plus now I'm pregnant" papers. You want me to authorize the deduction of funds from my paycheck for _child support_..."

She nodded.

House grew angry. "Who would be desperate enough to want to have _my _baby? She must be psychotically insane..." After reading into the first paragraph, his question was answered. In bold letters, it read:

_**Stacy Warner, plantiff vs Dr. Gregory House, M.D., defendant.**_

"Well...that answers _that _question." It was the only thing he could think to say when, really, he couldn't think to say anything else.

* * *

_Military Checkpoint..._

As they neared the front of the line, Hank and Cameron were greeted by the sight of a military barricaded checkpoint. They sighed in relief when they found there was no sign of medical assistance needed, and turned around to head back to the car.

"A stallion," she decided.

Hank looked at her with a questioning glance. "Come again?"

Cameron laughed. "House. He's like a stallion. Well, on most days, he's more like an arse, but..." She paused. "He may look gorgeous..." she started, and paused to mentally say _and you might want to ride him...,_ "but he's wild, stubborn, untamable, and free-spirited. He has his moments of letting people close, close enough to touch him, but he always runs away, thinking someone'll throw on a set of reigns."

Hank paused in step and looked at Cameron. "A horse with reigns, is one with a broken spirit. He'll go along with you, because he has no choice, and by taking away his choice, he'll never really be free to be himself. Stace is a spirit breaker. She wants to control people, make them do things when she wants them done, whatever it may be. Mark's a somewhat submissive guy, but it don't mean I like the way she controls him. You, on the other hand, are not at all like her. You're not the soul-crushing kind. You're more of the, healin' and carin' kind."

Cameron was amazed. She knew this man for a mere two days and he pegged her perfectly.

Hank continued. "Mean-spirited and stubborn arses, don' mix," he said, tiredly grinning.

"They do have a tendency to butt heads," she agreed. "Maybe we shouldn't keep them cooped up in the car much longer, huh?"

"Yeah. You know, I think with that the best route for you to take is the one you're already on. Seems to be working," he said, cryptically.

Cameron looked at him, puzzled. "What route's that?"

"Galloping along beside 'im," he said, grinning.

* * *

_Back Inside Stacy's Taurus..._

"This is asinine!" he shouted. "You can't believe yourself, let along try to get me to believe, that you're knocked up with my kid! It's been months since I've seen you, let alone thought of you."

His last remark cut her deeply. "This is so typical of you, Greg! I _knew _you'd never take responsibility of your only child."

House frowned. "I don't know who you paid to get you that way, but it wasn't me!"

"Just because you pay for sex, doesn't mean everyone else has to," she snapped at him.

"You know what? This," he said, picking up the papers and rolling down his window, "is what I think about this whole situation." He bent his arm back and chucked them out of the car, sending them flying through the air, some being carried away by the wind. "I don't want to have anything to do with you, or the adulterine spawn of whatever unlucky git you slept with, understand?"

Stacy glared at him. "You know that was a copy, right?"

House sighed. "What does it take to get rid of you?" _Maybe I'll call Mark and find out how he got her to show up here..._

"You can't get rid of me, Greg. I'm not leaving."

"Like you didn't leave the first time," he retorted.

"You pushed me away! I tried to help you and you pushed me out of your life."

He huffed. "I'm trying it again, but it's not working. I wonder if my sarcasm batteries are running low..."

* * *

_Outside Stacy's Taurus..._

As they kept walking, ignoring the strange looks from impatient drivers that sat in wait to move, they were relieved to see the car come back into view. "I'm sorry about the whole yelling thing earlier. It must be awkward sitting in a car with no idea what's going on," Cameron said to Hank.

He shrugged. "You're an apologizer, huh?"

Cameron blushed. "Is there something wrong with apologizing to people?"

"No, it's just that, it's pointless to apologize for things that you can't control. See, if it rains, and you apologize to me because I got wet, that's unnessesary. I was out walking in the rain, I had it coming. If you accidently knock me over while we walk back to the car, you can apologize, because it's your fault. Now, if you shoot my sister-in-law, even though she had it coming, I think you'll go to jail, whether or not you apologize," he said, laughing.

Cameron chuckled. "I'm one of those people that tends to get walked on, you know? If someone stabbed me, I'd probably use my last words to apologize for bleeding on their shirt. Chase and Foreman think I'm a masochist."

"Who?"

"Oh, my co-workers back in New Jersey. Chase likes me, and Foreman's like a big brother."

"A masochist, huh?" Hank asked, amused by the thought.

"I don't love being hurt. I just love...him."

"You're not talking about this Chase or Foreman fella, are ya?" he asked, knowingly.

Cameron chuckled to herself and looked happily to Hank. "No. I was referring to someone else. Someone _stubborn_."

As the neared the car, Hank noticed Stacy and House were looking angrily at each other. "Well, they're both still _alive_."

As Cameron walked around to get into the car, the driver of the car behind them shouted out to her. "I beg your pardon, ma'am!"

Cameron approached the car cautiously. "Yes?"

The man who called for her, removed his hat and bowed his head to her, before placing it back on his head. He was a nice gentlemanly looking man of British decent, in a white, black banded fedora and a dark pin-striped suit. "How do you do, Miss..."

"It's Ms. And I'm Allison Cameron," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"My apologies, Ms. Cameron, it's jolly good to meet you," he said, accepting her handshake. "My name is James Calum."

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Calum. What can I do for you?"

"Well, first off, I'd like to say that I do believe you're quite mostly the nicest American I've met, so far, and pardon me for saying so, the loveliest."

Cameron blushed. "Thank you, sir." She noticed the man was almost ashamed to bring up the subject he'd called her over for.

"Well, you see, I don't mean to be a pest or anything of the sort, but there happens to be a chap in your automobile that lost a few pieces of paper out of the window, and it seems to have biffed my windshield and gotten itself stuck in my wiper, as the case may be," he informed her, handing her the creased paper. "I don't mean to be overly critical, of course, but I do find it to be awfully inconsiderate when people go about littering the streets, as if it is their own personal waste can. That is to say, nothing bad about you, Ms. Cameron, having any association with the man, in which I'm speaking of. Could you, perhaps, give him a good tongue-lashing for me?"

Cameron looked at him, with wide eyes._ Tongue-lashing? He wants me to kiss House?_

"I'm sorry, Mr. Calum, I don't understand. You'd like me to give him, what?"

"A tongue-lashing. An oration?" He said, trying again.

Cameron shook her head, still puzzled.

"Oh, how do you Americans say it? A stern talking-to? A scolding, if you will."

"Oh!" Cameron exclaimed, starting to laugh at how horribly she misinterpreted his request. "I'm sorry for the confusion. Yes, I'll give him a very stern lecturing about littering," she said, lifting up the paper.

"Thank you, Ms. Cameron. I do hope you have a wonderful day!" he said, removing his hat, once again.

"Thank you, Mr. Calum. I hope yours is the same."

"Toodle-pip!" he shouted from his car, as she waved to him.

Cameron smiled at the interaction she just shared with such a nice man. _And now, for House's stern talking to. I wonder what this is?_ She thought, turning it over, reading the information it contained.

"Cameron!" House shouted, opening her door. He stuck his head out to see her. "Hurry up and get in the car! This line is so slow, I think a snail just passed us. We have to inch closer to the front of the-"

House stopped shouting as he noticed Cameron standing deathly still, reading the paper she held in her hand. _Oh, please God! Please, don't let that be what I think it is!_

He was really starting to wish he'd gotten out of the car when she asked him to, earlier.

As Cameron read the page, the repetitive and worried shouts from Mr. Calum fell deafly onto her ears, and her whole world started to crumble, acknowledging nothing but the heartbreaking words in front of her. Her eyes filled with tears, and a sharp pain filled her chest as it tightened. Her mouth remained open, though no words escaped it. The rude reality of the situation took form in an image from Hank's metaphor, and it danced around inside of Cameron's head.

Stacy broke him. She crushed the beautiful stallion's spirit and tightened her reigns on him and walked off, victoriously smirking at the mare that watched helplessly from afar.

"Al, what's wrong?" yelled Hank. But she didn't even look up at him.

"Allison?" tried House.

Cameron looked up with eyes glazed over, to find that he'd climbed out of the car and stood about ten feet from her. She staggered over to him and placed the sheet of paper against his chest. "Here," she said, not even looking up at him, but at the cars in front of her. "I believe this is yours. Mr. Callum and I would like it if you'd stop hurting-" She wasn't sure what to say. Her? People? The Environment? No, she had to find a way to include it all.

"Everything around you," she finished, slowly making her way back to the car.

House stared at the paper he held in his hand. It was the front page to the stack of papers he'd thrown, and to his dismay, those bolded letters came back to haunt him all over again. This was worse than Edward Vogler. It was even worse than Detective Tritter.

He pulled out his cell and called Wilson.

* * *

_Back in Cuddy's Office at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital..._

Chase continues telling Cuddy, Wilson and Foreman what happened when Stacy cornered him in the Conference Room a few days earlier.

_More of Chase's Flashback_

"Can't you leave the papers on his desk or something?" Chase had asked her when she came into the conference room.

"No, it's not hospital related. They're legal documents I need signed, concerning child support."

Chase looked at Stacy like she grew another head. Hopefully this one comes with a nicer personality. "House has a kid?"

"He will in a few months," Stacy smiled at his state of shock. "I'm pregnant."

_End Chase's Flashback_

"WHAT?!" exclaimed, Wilson, Foreman and Cuddy, causing Chase to flinch as their shouts were all directed at him.

"House knocked her up?" Foreman shouted in disbelief.

Wilson folded his arms and shook his head. "Well, for someone so romantically challenged, as he is, women want him. I could see him getting Paula pregnant, but Stacy? No way! Unless..."

"Unless what?" they asked.

"Unless they saw each other again, after she quit here."

Cuddy turned back to Chase. "Alright, then what happened?"

_The Rest of Chase's Flashback_

Chase froze. _Maybe I heard her wrong. _"Excuse me?"

"I'm pregnant," Stacy repeated.

His eyes grew wide. "Well, so...uh...you're here to tell him that you're pregnant and..."

"That it's his," she finished for him.

Chase felt his jaw drop like a brick. "You're...but he's...with Cam..."

Stacy frowned. "What?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, so shocked he didn't notice he was divulging information as if he were merely talking to himself, repeating the facts so that they could sink into his brain. "You're pregnant with House...But he's in Mississippi with Cameron..."

Stacy nodded, silently thanking him for his thinking out loud, and quietly backed out of the door.

Chase, still spacing out, sat staring at the hallway in front of him. _I like Cameron. Cameron likes House. House got Stacy pregnant, and now he's where I should be; on vacation with Cameron. Wait! Where's Stacy going?_ He looked up to see that she was gone and sighed. _I swear, this hospital is a soap opera in itself..._

_End Chase's Flashback_

"Well," said Wilson, "he must not know yet, or else he'd been freaking out."

"Unless he knows and he's not telling you about it," Foreman suggested.

They considered it, but ultimately turned down that idea. Wilson was, as much as House denied it, his best friend. If he told anybody anything, it would be Wilson. Or Cameron, for now, as the case may be. Although, seeing as how this would be an issue that you wouldn't want to discuss with your prospective girlfriend, let alone at all, Wilson would be his closest choice.

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "If anything, he'd call, shout at me, leaving only a few words intelligible, and then hang up on me."

Wilson looked to Cuddy. "What are we going to do?"

"About what? The fact that he can't keep it in his pants, or that his baby's momma has been hunting him down like a bloodhound for the past week? If I wasn't worried about Cameron's feelings in all of this, I'd say, serves him right for fooling around with a married woman." Then, the thought of the baby hit her. "Oh, no. There's going to be another House! I can barely stand the one we have right now!"

Wilson shook his head. "No, I meant, what are we going to do about Stacy? She's going to ruin our plan!"

"Maybe...maybe they'll work around it. They get together, stay that way, and House gets joint custody. Or maybe he won't have anything to do with Stacy, so he disowns the kid." He shook his head of the thought. "No, scratch that. He may act like he doesn't care, but he's not _completely _heartless."

Before Cuddy had time to voice her opinion, Wilson's phone rang, the irritating Tangerine Speedo tone raised eyebrows around the room. Glancing at the caller ID, his stomach churned and he became instantly nervous as she saw that it read _House _on it. His eyes widened, he looked frantically from Cuddy, to Chase, to Foreman, and back to Cuddy again.

"What should I say? What am I supposed to tell him?" he asked, pleading for someone to fix it so that he wouldn't have to answer the phone. Unfortunately, for Wilson, no one spoke up, forcing him to gulp hard and respond to House's call. Preparing himself for a fit of rage and yelling, he flipped his phone open and prayed for minimal hearing damage.

"_Hello_?"


	23. It Ain't Me, That You Feel

To those of you, who wanted Stacy gone, I dedicate this chapter to you...

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

_**It Ain't Me, That You Feel**_...

"_Hello_?"

"What's the diagnosis for optical leakage, inability to focus on people when being talked to, and a personality change that resembles one found undead in a George Romero movie?"

"I'm not sure, but it _must_ be contagious," said Wilson. "Seems like every woman you've ever met, back here, has had the very same thing! Although, since you took time off, it seems to have started to clear up a bit..."

"Nice. But enough about your mom... I need your help right now. Stacy's trying to kill me, Jimmy! She's trying to get away with murder!"

"Metaphorically, I hope."

"She's a relationship killer. She's destroyed her own, and now, she's after mine."

"Yours?" Wilson paused and waited, expecting him to say more. "Your relationship with who?"

"..."

"House...?" Wilson coaxed him.

He groaned, realizing what it was that he was waiting for him to say. If he didn't spill now, he'd have to later on, eventually. "Cameron."

Wilson smiled and looked over to Cuddy to see her curious expression.

"Wipe that stupid grin off of your face, Tweedle Dum!" he snapped.

"So, what'd Stacy do?" he asked, hoping to play it off as if he was just hearing about this for the first time.

"She's trying to get me to accept the _Father of The Year Award_ by started an evil rumor that she's got a mutating parasite that's going to be referring to me as 'Daddy'."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't be worried about this, would I?" he said, regretfully.

"When?"

"Whichtime?"

"Well, considering something came from at least _one _of the multiple times that you're insinuating, I would say let's just go with the latest."

"The last time I saw her was when I told her to pick Mark and leave, which she did."

"Any time after that?" he asked.

"Nope. Jeez, what do you take me for, some kind of sexually frustrated, porn deprived teenager? I'm not a man whore! That was over a year ago. If she's expecting, it's not mine! Unless she's a psycho who stole my little men from me while I was asleep and froze them for later use."

"I don't think she's _trying _to get pregnant by you, House. In fact, I don't think _anyone's _crazy enough to want to bear your offspring. Except, maybe, for Cameron, for some unexplainable reason."

He thought about commenting on how all girls want a piece of him, but refrained. "As hot as she has been for me for the last, I don't know how long, I think that desire's been trumped on, after the little stunt Stacy pulled a minute ago," he said, grimly.

Wilson rubbed his head. "What happened?"

"We're in a traffic jam right now, because the military put up a checkpoint. Cameron and Hank go to check it out, leaving me with Stacy. She whips out these papers and wants me to sign for child support, claiming she's pregnant and the kid's half mine. I told her I didn't want anything to do with her and threw the papers out the window. Hank got in the car, and when I called for Cameron to get in the car, I saw her looking at one of the papers that, I thought, blew away."

"And she knew it was yours?"

"It's hard to deny the accusations when my name and the words 'Complaint for Child Support' are written in giant black letters on it."

"Yeah, that _would _be tough to talk your way out of. How did Cameron take it?"

House's voice lowered. "The initial shock still hasn't worn off. It's been close to ten minutes and she doesn't look any more coherent than she did when she first read it. She looked at me, in a daze, and handed me the paper, told me it was mine and that she would like it if I 'stopped hurting everything around me'."

"Ouch," said Wilson.

"She won't even look at me. And, she _cried_!"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Women tend to do that when you disappoint them or yell at them, House. You should know, it's the same result you get with every new nurse Cuddy hires. If they're not crying within the 4 hours of their first day of employment, I know you haven't been forced to go to the clinic."

"True, but this is different. Cameron knows me well enough that she takes my snarkiness with a grain of salt. Normally, she huffs at my insults, rolls her eyes at my jokes, and if I make her upset, she yells at me, but this..." He paused. "This is different. It wasn't words that I said that I could, just, take back. She thinks I'm actually the father of this non-existent thing. She's going to give up on me." There was an awkward silence between them. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this."

"House, I don't-" Wilson started, sadly trying to tell him that he was fresh out of ideas.

"_Please_," he begged, his plea drenched in desperation.

Wilson sighed. "Tell her the truth. Explain it to her."

"What? You think she's going to automatically believe me? Over an official court document?" he asked.

"Well, is it?" Wilson wondered out loud.

"Is it what?"

"Is it official? You were served by Stacy, not a governmental officer. Maybe they're not even valid! She knows the law, it would be extremely simple for her to-"

"Forge them," House finished. "If they're not stamped, they're not real..." He thought for a moment. "Ok, but what if Cameron doesn't believe me?"

"She will," he reassured him. "She may not always agree with you on some things, but she still respects you and trusts you. She's always trusted you, and backed you up when no one else would. Even me," he confessed.

House finished for him, grinning. "Jimmy! You're a great man; I don't care what your ex-wives say about you..."

Wilson narrowed his eyes, hurt by the thought. "They said that? Even Julie?"

House shook his head. "No, but she mentioned that since you started working later during the week, and the pool boy's out of town, she's had to stock up on double A's..."

He sighed. He sure did have an interesting way of thanking him. "You're _welcome_, House."

"Hey, Wilson?" House said, his voice low and serious.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Thanks," he said, and hung up.

* * *

Hank walked up from behind House and looked quizzically at him. Without saying a word, House handed him the paper and waited for him to read it. After skimming it and reading the important parts, Hank looked shockingly back up at House.

"Is this possible?" he asked, shocked and angry.

"The 'Knocked Up' part or the 'Who's Vermin Is It, Anyway' part?" he asked.

"Both," he replied.

He shook his head. "It's not mine. I haven't done her in over a year."

Hank scolded him for the comment, before House kindly repeated his statement and replaced "done" with "seen", and nodded. "She doesn't look pregnant. I can't be too sure about mood swings, though. She's always acts like that."

"Good point," agreed House, "I think if she was, she'd be a bit more on the emotional side. She's not acting any different than she ever did while we were together."

"So, she's just, makin' it all up? What for?"

"If she can't have me, no one can. She wants me back." Hank looked at him skeptically. House rolled his eyes, "Why does everyone do that when I say that? She _really does _want me. I don't know why, but she does. Must be something in the water those girls drink..." he suggested, adding Cameron in there for good measure.

"Well, this ain't good. I done talked you up with Allison, and Stace is just killing that effort off."

"You 'talked me _up_'? I'll bet it took a lot of talking," he snorted.

"So, what's the plan? What do we do?" Hank asked.

House shook his head. "I need to corner Stacy again to set her straight. When we get to the house, preoccupy Cameron. Once Satan stops haunting me, we can go back to being one big dysfunctional family again," he smirked.

Hank nodded. "A'ight. I'll see what I can do," he said, walking back to the car.

House hobbled towards it, which, impressively, had moved quite a ways up in line, and slid in next to Cameron, who didn't bother to look anywhere but at the loose threads that stuck out from the back of the cloth seat cover in front of her. He nudged her with his elbow.

"You keep staring at it like that, it's going to catch fire," he teased her, trying to lighten the mood.

She didn't bother acknowledging him and rewarded him with nothing more than an occasional blink, still directed to the back of the chair.

He sighed. "Cameron?"

No response.

"Blink once for 'yes', twice for 'no'. Are you mad at me?"

_Blink. Blink._

"Is the rumor about Chase, being a bad lay, true?"

Cameron huffed and then looked like she was in thought.

_Blink._

House smirked. "I knew it." He then grew more serious. "Did I hurt you?"

She paused, and gulped, choking back tears. _Blink._

"If I said that I was sorry, and meant it, would you forgive me?"

_Blink. _Cameron didn't even hesitate before answering him.

House placed his hand protectively over hers and looked into her eyes, even if she didn't look back. "I'm _am _sorry, Allie."

Stunned from his uncharacteristic apology, in front of other people, no less, and the use of the nickname that she would normally clench at, she glanced sideways to briefly accept his request for forgiveness, and nodded, before looking back at the chair.

Sensing that the information that he got from her, was probably all that she was willing to tell him at the moment, he leaned back into his seat and lowered his head, running through all of the thoughts in his head.

After a few more minutes, their car finally made it up to the uniformed MP's, Stacy rolled down her window.

"Hello there, Ma'am. At this time, civilians are not being allowed back to their homes at this time. If you could just make a quick turn up here..." he instructed them, pointing to a man-made dirt road that looped around.

"Sir," she said, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we're no mere civilians. The two in the back are disaster relief workers, and we're just here to drop them off and leave."

The MP looked at them skeptically. "Can I see some ID please?" he said to them.

Hank and House pulled out their wallets, while Stacy showed hers after digging it out of her purse. Cameron pulled hers from her bag and handed it to them. He took her license and grabbed the radio from his belt, calling it in.

"Do you have paperwork or badges?" he asked.

Cameron fumbled around her bag, but couldn't find them. Then, the location of the papers became clear. She'd left them in the glove compartment of the Shelby!

"I-I don't have them with me..." she stuttered. "We had to get a ride down here because our car broke down and I left them in the car back in Mississippi..." she explained.

"What group are you here with?" he inquired.

"FEMA," she replied. "We're supposed to meet a group at the greyhound station."

"Ok, give me a minute," he said, walking away while talking with someone over his walkie-talkie.

House sighed. "I doubt they'll let us in without official clearance."

"When it rains, it pours," muttered Cameron, shrugging.

Leaning over, her grinned at her. "What was that, Dr. Cameron? You like 'canes' and 'whores'?"

Before Cameron was able to voice a reply, the MP approached Stacy's window once again and handed Cameron's ID back. "You're clear to pass. You folks have a nice day," he said, stepped back.

Stacy nodded to them and drove towards her and Mark's vacation house.

* * *

The city was surprisingly dry, and devastatingly empty. They all watched in amazement as the car passed so many abandoned houses. Many windows that had been busted out were boarded up, spray-painted with heartfelt phrases. One read "New Orleans, we'll come back to you." Apart from the occasional soldier-filled Humvee and a few law enforcement SUV's, they were the only sign of intelligent life.

After a few more turns were taken, the Taurus came to an abrupt stop in front of a, under the circumstances, fairly decent looking two story home, complete with a full, wooden porch. They all got out of the car and stared at the house, taking notice to the Mardi-Gras beads hanging in the tree outside, and the trash covering the lawn, mixed in with color changed leaves. There was hardly a sign of water anywhere.

Hank took a deep breath. "Well, it's now or never, ya'll. Better get a move on an' see what's all damaged."

He waited for Stacy to ascend the stairs to the porch, and remained closely behind her, while House watched Cameron slowly walk behind them, still in her traumatized trance. As they opened the door, they were startled to find that, it looked like an ordinary living room. A large water spot was found to be soaked into the ceiling, but other than that, everything else seemed like nothing had hit it. And to top it all off, a fat, grey cat trotted happily into the room and walked straight over to House and rubbed it's arched back against his leg.

"Stupid cat," he remarked, trying to shake it off of him.

Cameron cracked a tiny sad smile, taking notice to the animal's actions toward him and remembered his allergy. She scolded herself for being happy that he would suffer later, because of it. Then she felt a little guilty for wishing it on him, and then kicked herself for caring, when she was so upset about the situation he'd gotten himself into.

"I think it's obvious that he's not stupid since he survived this storm, without anyone to care for him!" Stacy snapped at him for being so insensitive to the creature.

"Glad I didn't wager anything on that one," he remarked, remembering his suspicions of the cat being eaten.

Hank had walked into the kitchen and looked around. The sound of cabinets being opened was heard and then a helpless yelp, followed by Hank losing his lunch. As they all walked closer to the kitchen, it became immediately obvious to the others of what could be so nauseating.

_The refrigerator._

The overpowering smell of rotten eggs and spoiled milk filled the room like a gas chamber and encouraged the same effects to it's occupants. The sickening aroma sent the girls, and even House, back into the living room, gasping for uncontaminated air. Hank had found some large garbage bags in one of the cabinets and used it to empty his stomach. He grabbed the box and followed them, tossing it to House who passed them out. Cameron opened the front door and Stacy opened the windows.

"You know, we're going to have to clean it out, eventually?" said Hank. Stacy looked at him as if he were crazy. House did the same, knowing that Hank was right, and popped a couple of Vicodin as he felt his thigh muscle start to sting. Cameron stood against the frame of the open door, panting for breath.

"Allison, can you help me go through the cabinets?" Hank asked her. "Sure," she said, forcing a smile for him.

Stacy, you and Greg can tackle that fridge," he continued, remembering House's plan to get Stacy alone a second time. House peered over at Cameron with apologetic eyes, but she wouldn't even look at him, in fear that he would see just how badly she was hurting. She took a deep breath and followed Hank back into the kitchen.

"Why me?" Stacy exclaimed.

"Because, it's your rotten food, and it's your mold-infested fridge," House snapped.

She groaned and started to walk towards the kitchen door when she was stopped by his outstretched cane. "Not so fast..."

Stacy looked at him in bewilderment.

He glared at her angrily. "We need to talk..."

* * *

One of the cabinets, under the sink, was full of cleaning supplies. Searching through them, Cameron found respiratory masks, long plastic gloves, a gallon of ammonia, Ajax, extra sponges, paper towels, scouring pads and another box of trash bags. Hank searched the remaining cabinets for perishable food items and threw them all of the expired or spoiled food into the bag that she held open.

Hank wanted to talk to her about what happened, but he wasn't sure if she would open up to him anymore than she already had. Afraid to ruin their speaking terms, he remained silent about his thoughts and waited, hoping she would bring it up. He didn't have to wait very long.

"She broke him, you know," she said.

Hank grabbed a moldy loaf of bread from the breadbox and paused with it in hand, not sure what to say. Then he realized he was still holding it, and Cameron was waiting for him to drop it, so he set it in the bag.

"How so?" he asked.

Cameron stared at her feet. "Stacy's pregnant."

Hank gave no response. He just, waited. When she noticed his lack of shock or surprise, she repeated herself, wondering if he hadn't heard her correctly, and elaborated.

"Stacy's _pregnant._ With _House's _baby."

He stumbled for the right words to say, but as he argued with himself about it, Cameron noticed that the only expression change that was made by him was that his eyes narrowed and she felt the need to question it.

"You're not appalled by this?" she demanded.

Hank shook his head. "By what Stacy's doing to ya'll? Heck yes, I'm raging bull mad!"

Cameron squinted at him. "What _she's _doing? She's just trying to get him to accept the responsibility that he has coming to him. I'd do the same thing if I were her," she moped, not really believing any of the words she just said. _Listen to me, _she huffed, _now I'm sticking up for the witch..._

"Well, I'd hope not!" Hank exclaimed. "You're too smart to go around trapping people in with false accusations like that!"

Cameron's tearful eyes shot up and into Hanks. "What? False accu-" she stopped, her eyes growing wide with anticipation, as she felt her sunken hopes start to resurface a bit.

Hank nodded, pointing towards the kitchen door.

* * *

"About what, Greg? You're not one for talking about anything," Stacy pointed out.

He stomped his cane against the hardwood floor. "I'm going to save you millions of dollars worth of psychiatric therapy for the little leech you're supposedly caring," he announced, grinning.

"Um, okay...How?"

"By not taking responsibility for it," he said firmly.

"I think I could get a judge to change your mind," she threatened.

He grinned. "Good luck. Not many judges look too kindly on lawyers. They tend to...I don't know..._lie _about things!"

"What am I lying about, Greg?" she said, holding her hands out to her sides.

"What _aren't _you lying about, oh evil one? Let me see," he said, pretending to be thinking really hard, "there's, the imaginary baby, the fake court papers, the false breast enlargement..."

Stacy's mouth dropped open, fumbling to contradict him, but House cut her off.

"Don't even _try _to hide _that _improvement. Stuffing seems to work for you." He prodded her in the chest with his cane. "Maybe it'll help attract your next imaginary baby's daddy." He dropped the amused "You're busted" act and turned serious, scolded her. "Why'd you do it?"

Stacy surrendered and resorted to smiling sadly. "I-I just wanted to be with you again. To have things back to the way they used to be before any_thing_ got in our way." When she stressed "anything" he knew what she meant to say was "any_one_" and she was referring to Cameron.

"Oh, you mean things like...Mark? Because, let me tell you, it was going to be _pretty _weird if he was going to be hanging around. He'd whine about wanting a threesome, and I'm just not into it if any of the other players are equipped like I am..."

Stacy looked pleadingly at House. "I left Mark, and I told you that. I left him so that I could be with you. I want this relationship with you, Greg."

"It's over, Stacy! In fact, I do believe, I can honestly say that, the thing between us, was over before it ever began. I. Don't. Want. You!" he said, sternly.

"Oh, Greg, you don't know what you want! You love me, and..." she said, manipulatively.

"And _that _is where you're wrong, Medusa. I **don't **love you, nor did I ever, and I know _exactly _what I want! Something you can't have, something you can't kill, and some_one_ you can never get rid of..."

"You mean, _her_, don't you?"

"_She _has a name, and, yes, I mean, Allison."

"What is it that you _think_ she has, that I don't?" Stacy demanded to know.

House looked at Stacy smugly and said, simply, "A heart."

"I have a-" She started to protest, but was silenced by House's last words to her.

"Not _**Mine**_!"

Stacy turned to storm furiously off into the kitchen, but stumbled backwards when she saw a stunned Cameron blocking the door, with her teary eyes fixed on House and a giant smile on her face. The younger woman's happiness made her twice as steamed, and she stomped around her and pushed on through into the kitchen to pout.

House stood nervously in front of Cameron. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop on Satan when she's yelling at innocent cripples? It's not nice."

She shook her head and slowly walked towards him.

His body stiffened as she came closer. "I know you heard what I said. Did you hear _all _of it?"

_Blink._

"Do you believe me?"

_Blink._

"I'm not going to hear the end of this, am I?" he asked, referring to him confessing his love for her.

_Double Blink._

He sighed, giving her a half-smile. "Well, now that's out in the open, I should probably tell you that Stacy thinks we're engaged. I think, to fuel the fire, we could start acting more like it..."

Cameron's eyes bulged slightly as her smile grew bigger. _Blink._

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he continued, "I just thought that-"

Cameron cut House off with a mind-numbing kiss that she'd been saving for awhile. As their lips passionately made love to each other, and it started to get heated while they began to run out of breath, they were awkwardly interrupted by the slam of a refrigerator door and grossed out howls from Stacy and sickened laughter from Hank. He unwillingly pulled away from her and kissed her on the forehead as his own silent way of reassuring her that he would be there for her, to protect her.

To love her.

He looked at the closed kitchen door and back at Cameron, smiling. "Ready?" he asked. She looked at him, questioningly, to which he replied, "My ick factor senses are tingling and I have a feeling that there's a giant mountain of mold in there with Stacy's name written all over it, and I don't want to miss watching it eat her alive, for anything!"

House winked at Cameron, who smiled as he grabbed her by the hand and they made their way into the kitchen.

* * *

After fifteen minutes of disposing of food and soaking the fridge down in ammonia, Stacy announced that she was ready to leave. She put the cat in the pet taxi she brought with her and waited for everyone to come out of the house, before closing the door to lock it. She picked the carrier back up and walked down to the car and placed it in the back seat.

As House started to climb into the car, Stacy stood in front of the open back door and cleared her throat.

He grinned at her. "I don't know if you knew this, but the back seat only holds two of us and a cat," he said, jokingly.

Stacy smiled wickedly and popped the trunk open. "Sorry, Greg, but this is where you get off."

House waggled his eyebrows up and down, suggestively. "Really? I was wondering when-"

Stacy shook her head and pointed to the open trunk. "Bags. Out. Now."

Cameron walked around the car and pulled their bags from the trunk. House narrowed his eyes.

"Are you _abandoning _us?"

"If you love someone, set them free..." she recited, grinning.

"Yeah, but it doesn't say to set them free _here_! In the middle of a ghost town!" he shouted.

Stacy looked down at her watch. "Oh, look at the time! I have to get home soon, or Mark will start worrying about me."

House frowned and pulled his . "You mean, the cat."

Stacy glared at him, but turned her scold into an evil smirk. "Have a _great _vacation, Greg!" She turned to Cameron, her wicked smile was accompanied with an angry and jealous glare, and nodded. "Dr. Cameron."

Hank protested to Stacy to take them somewhere with people, but she refused, leaving him to give them a sympathetic smile as they drove off.

House looked to Cameron and frowned. "Well, now where to, Miss GPS?"

She looked around and noticed a tall building with a large granite sign in front of it. "There's a children's hospital down the street. We could see if there's anyone there," she suggested. House nodded in agreement and they picked up their bags and hobbled down the street.

They both agreed that they were extremely unfortunate when it came to transportation, but they both knew, somehow, that having each other would get them where they needed, and wanted, to be.

* * *

Hugh Laurie sits in front of you as Bertie Wooster, in his bubble-filled bathtub, playing with a little yellow rubber duckie.

Naked Hugh: "What, Ho! And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time, once again, to give you the wonderous opportunity to voice your opinions. That's right! We've come to that part of the chapter in which we have titled, very simply, **Reviews**. The author has humbly requested to hear your thoughts, and perhaps a bit of praise, in order to feel inspired. If you would, please click on the tiny purpleish-blue arrowed box at the bottom of your screen and encourage away!

Steven Fry dressed as Jeeves, walks in: (clears his throat) Will that be all, for you, sir?

Naked Hugh: (Nods) "Thank you, Jeeves. Yes, that will be all."

Steven Fry: "Very good, Sir." (Leaves)

Naked Hugh: (Forgets about the audience in front of him and continues to play with his rubber duckie)


	24. There's Something Moving Around In Here

A/N: Since I don't live near Princeton, I used Google™ to look up some places around the area. I didn't like the names of the results I got, so I made some up. As usual, please don't sue. Thanks.

* * *

Chapter 23

_**There's Something Moving Around In Here**_

It was a fairly short distance, between the house they just emerged from and the children's hospital, but it didn't stop House from complaining, as he carried his backpack over his shoulder.

"Are we there yet?" he childishly whined.

Cameron smiled slightly. "Not yet."

* * *

_Ten seconds later..._

"Are we there _yet_?"

Cameron looked at him sideways and her smile grew. "Nope."

* * *

_Another Ten seconds later..._

"Are we there _yet_?"

"No, House..."

* * *

_Five seconds later..._

"Are we _there yet_?" he asked once more, in a irritating manner.

Cameron stopped walking and pointed a playful finger at him. "Stop whining! You big baby..."

He hid an ornery grin from her. "Or what? You'll turn this _cane _around? Good, because I don't know how much longer I can be your pack mule."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "You're carrying _one _bag, House! I've got _all _of mine _plus _one of yours. Besides, Cuddy told me that, in college, not only was your major medicine, but also that your minor was baggage handling," she joked.

"Did she tell you what her minor was?"

"What?" Cameron asked, now curious.

"Medicine," House grinned. "Want to know what her major was?"

Cameron groaned. "Something tells me that I'd be better off saying no, since this is probably going to end up as a sexual reference with the word _major _in it."

House sighed, frowning. "You're no fun."

As they shuffled closer to it, perhaps about twenty feet away, more of the building came into sight, both relieving them at the sight of a black Explorer and it's occupants, two city cops. Cameron smiled at the welcoming sight and turned to see House's expression, but found he wasn't next to her. She looked around and found him standing behind her, by about ten feet, tapping his cane irritably into the ground.

"House?" she asked, walking back towards him. "What is it?"

"Think you could pull over? I have to _tinkle_... "

Cameron's eyes widened incredulity, threatening to pop out. _Did he just say 'tinkle'?_ "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cameron, you're a doctor. You know all about this sort of thing."

She looked ahead of them. "Can't you, just, hold _it?"_

"Hold what?"

"_It_," she insisted.

"Well, if it's the "it" I hope you're talking about, then simply _holding _it's not going to help..."

She sighed. "Can't you control your bladder for two minutes? We're almost there!"

"But, _Mommy_! I have to go _now_..."

"Well, you should've gone before we left!"

"But I didn't have to go _then_!"

Cameron looked around. "Where do you plan on relieving yourself, anyway? Out here, in the open?"

He snorted. "You're _absolutely _right! Wouldn't want the neighbors to walk out onto their porch and see me "watering their petunias."

She laughed. "You're serious?"

"It's a ghost town, no one's here to care!" He studied her look of indecision for a moment. "What? Does the thought of me with my pants down bother you?"

"If it did, would you wait until we got there?" she asked, raising an interrogative brow.

"Depends, would it be a "grossed out" bother, or more of a "hot and heavy" bother?"

Cameron blushed. "Which one would get you to keep your pants on?"

He grinned. "Neither. I could just go with my pants on, but where would the fun be in that for you?"

"You know, you could get arrested for exposing yourself," she warned him.

"Since when have I ever cared about getting arrested for doing _anything_ outside?"

She shook her head in agreement. "Good point."

House though for a moment and started walking for the hospital once again. "On second thought, if I'm going to get arrested for indecent exposure, I think I should at least get _some _type of rewarding advantage for it. Inmates respect you a lot more if you got arrested for "getting some" in public rather than playing "Anatomically Correct Lawn Ornament Fountain"."

"I take it you know this from experience on the inside?" she asked, scolded him for being stupid enough to get arrested.

"Foreman's very informative when properly per...persua-"

Cameron watched as House inhaled shakily, his face contorting in what seemed like pain. She leaned in to have a closer look at him.

"House? Are you o-" Cameron started to ask.

"_**AHH-CHOOOOO!**_"

House tried to cover his mouth as he sneezed, but failed, effectively sending a revolting light mist, of what Cameron could hope was only spittle, right into her face. She squealed, grimacing at the unsanitary feeling that she was, literally, faced with, and rubbed her face off with her arm.

"Thanks," she spat at him.

"Stupid cat..." he scowled.

She nodded sympathetically and waved for him to follow her. "Come on."

* * *

Approaching the circle drive in front of the hospital, they walked up to a stone bench and set their bags down. House sat down and rubbed his aching leg, while Cameron opened her backpack and pulled out a bottle of Benedryl, tossing it to House. He studied it for a moment, and twisted the cap off, taking a swig that could've filled half of the bottle.

A middle-aged police officer who stood next to the SUV noticed them and opened his red cooler, pulling out two ice-cold dripping-wet bottles of water. He walked over to the sweating and tired couple and handed a bottle to House, and one to Cameron, loosening the lid on hers before handing it to her.

"Thank you," she said to him, before gulping down half the bottle in one breath.

The officer nodded and watched House dry-swallow his Vicodin, before restoring them to his pocket. He then looked back at Cameron and held out his hand to her. "Officer Camfield, but you can call me Bryan. Can I see some identification, please?"

"Allison Cameron," she nodded, handing him the driver's license she pulled from her purse.

He turned to House. "And yours, sir..."

He pulled out his ID and gave it to the cop, who walked back to his vehicle and grabbed his radio, running his own background criminal record check on them while they hydrated themselves. They took a long, hard look at the hospital that stood before them. It was just as the rest of the city; dead and deserted. He sighed deeply.

"What's wrong?"

"This gimp still has to pee like a racehorse. You're just gonna have to look away. Or not. Whatever tickles your Elmo," he said, struggling to stand up. When he made it to his feet, he was awkwardly greeted face-to-face with Officer Camfield, who looked smugly at him.

"Thanks, but I think I can go by myself. I've been practicing for forty some years now," he quipped.

He didn't find it very funny, nor did he begin to move out of House's way. Instead, he leered at him.

"Dr. Gregory House," he stated.

"The one and only," House arrogantly replied.

"We can only hope," Cameron snickered, grinning at her witty remark.

House started to scowl at her, but then agreed. "Very true. I might have some mini-me's around the Princeton area that I don't know about."

His remark disappointed her a bit, and she did a terrible job of hiding it. House took notice of it right away, but shrugged it off and turned back to the cop and nodded. "Want me to autograph your right butt cheek?"

"You have a very extensive and quite impressive track record, Dr. House. Your list of aliases is about a mile long," he said, reading, to himself, the list he'd written down on his notepad.

"Thank you," he said, proudly. "What's your favorite?"

He skimmed down the list. "I think it's a tie between, the 'prostitution' charge when you dressed in drag and claimed you were, a one, 'Lisa Cuddles'…"

"Allegedly. Besides, the charges were dropped."

"On account of sheer drunken stupidity," he reminded him, slightly amused.

"Yeah, Mr. Oncologist didn't think it was very funny at first, but we laughed it later. He even complimented me on my "do me" pumps. I look great in stilettos," he boasted, grinning at a shocked Cameron.

"…the 'public intoxication charge' when you stumbled around the Princeton Zoo and introduced yourself to the children as 'Skippy the _British _Kangaroo'," he continued.

Cameron's jaw dropped. "That was _you!_?"

House chuckled. "What were _you_ doing there?"

Cameron blushed. "Sometimes I take my niece there to walk around and look at the animals," she explained. She didn't disclose that, secretly, she went there by herself as well sometimes to think, knowing that a comment like that was bound to set off a sarcastic remark about her being childish. "Why were _you _at the zoo? You hate people, especially when they flock together in groups."

He shrugged. "The jogging park got boring; same ol' people having their same stupid affairs. When you figure people out, you migrate to the next stupid lot of them."

Bryan moved down his list. "Then there's the time you started a bar brawl and, once apprehended, claimed to be a one 'Jimmy Wilson'."

House turned and smiled at Cameron, who shook her head in disbelief. "Poor Jimmy, Patron Saint of bald-headed cancer kids everywhere. He didn't like bailing me out of _that _one, either. He had a hard time proving to them that _he _wasthe_ real _Jimmy Wilson," House laughed. "He claimed I was 'ruining his reputation'." He snorted. "As what? A lonely and depressed metro sexual that preys on controlling, young woman and woos them into marriage, only to cheat on them with the next nagging tramp who walks by?" He huffed.  
"Yeah, he was _**SO**_ much cooler when he was me..."

Officer Camfield cleared his throat. "I think this one trumps them all, though, Mr. _McQueen_."

Cameron looked questionably at House. "As in Steve McQueen, your _rat_?"

He frowned. "No, as in the _legend_!"

She groaned. "Oh, no…what'd you do?"

House smiled as he thought back to that fateful day he walked into the dealership.

* * *

_House pulled up on his motorcycle to the front door of the Ford dealership. He took off his sunglasses and hung them from the pocket of his leather jacket, dismounting his bike. Grabbing his cane from it's holster, he limped over to the Green Mustang._

"_Anything I can do for you, Sir?" asked a salesman who popped up out of nowhere. One second there was noone on the lot, and the next moment, they were all crawling out of the woodwork. House ran his hand down the curves of the 'stang's body._

"_You can throw me the keys to this beauty. I'm taking 'er out," he told him._

"_Sure thing, Mr...?"_

"_Steve," he said, nodding._

_The salesman looked at him suspiciously, but then nodded, disappearing into the dealership for a moment. He returned momentarily with a set of keys, tossed them to House and climbed into the passenger seat. House sat down and stared at the salesman. _

"_What do you think you're doing?" he demanded._

_The salesman shook his head. "Sorry, Mister...uh..." he said, hoping to be supplied with a last name._

_"Steve," House reminded him._

_He nodded. "Mr. Steve, sir, but a salesman is required to ride along on all vehicle test drives."_

_House growled. "Fine! Get in," he barked. Even before the salesman closed the door, House let it roar by giving it some gas, and slowly let it fall into a rough but steady purr_._ He pulled out of the space it was parked in and whipped it around the corner of the building, scaring the salesman next to him, who was holding on for dear life to the door handle._

* * *

Cameron shrugged. "He used a fake name at a car dealership to test drive a car? That's no worse than his previous charges..."

Bryan frowned. "He gave the salesman a heart attack."

House shook his head. "No, the _drifting, fish-tailing, and donuts _gave him the heart attack. I was merely an innocent bystander, or sitter in that case."

Bill looked to Cameron who was completely unfazed. "This doesn't surprise you, does it?"

She shook her head and chuckled a little. "Not really. It seems pretty elementary for him."

House half-smiled at her. "You know me so well! You should write my autobiography."

Cameron squinted at him and shook nodded. "Yeah, I can see you too lazy to have someone write a book _about _you, _for _you, pretending to _be _you."

"Precisely. If it works for clinic duty, why stop there?" Cameron rolled her eyes.

"Well, there's more," Bill read on.

* * *

_"So," said the frightened salesman, "what do you think of the Bullitt, Mr..."_

_"Steve." House reminded him._

_"Mr. Steve," he parroted. "This beauty's available in Dark Highland Green Metallic, or a more sinister Black coat, and the wheel-"_

_House scoffed. "You're an incredibly pathetic car salesman, you know that?"_

_He was taken aback by House's insult. "I'm sorry?"_

_House nodded. "So, you admit it?"_

_"Admit what? And what makes you say I'm a bad salesman? I've sold ten cars already this month!"_

_"And it's going to stay that number with the way you're going about this. I wanted to buy this Mustang because it's a Bullitt, not because I think the paint scheme goes well with my eyes. I suppose the next thing you're going to do is list off a bunch of useless crap that I already know."_

_"Did you know the wheels are..."_

_"Aluminum "18 with a Dark Argent finish, equipped with low-profile Pirelli tires. Italian tires, normally put on Porsches."_

_"What about the engine?" he challenged._

_"4.6 liter V8 engine. 3-valve Single Overhead Cam, complete with cold air induction and calibrated for high performance with the Ford Racing Power Upgrade."_

_"Horsepower?" the salesman gulped._

_House chuckled. "315 HP."_

_"Exhaust system?"_

_"H pipe. One exhaust system that branches out underneath her, gives it the look of a double."_

_Dang, he's good, he thought. I'll bet he won't know this though. This gets 'em every time. He cleared his throat. "And the gas cap?"_

_House thought for a moment. He's trying to trip me up, he thought. Dumb kid. "Which one? The operable one you fill or the faux one on the back?"_

_The salesman sighed heavily. "I give up. You probably know more about this car than I do, Mr. Steve."_

_"McQueen," House corrected him._

_The man's face turned white instantly. "McQueen? Your name is Steve McQueen? You're joking, right?"_

_"It's my nickname," House explained, grinned wickedly and floored the gas pedal, as they sped down the country road._

_A few minutes later, House pulled off to the side of the road and turned to the confused salesman next to him. "What's your name?"_

_"Tony," he said, holding out his hand for House to shake. He ignored it. "Thanks Tony, it's been nice scaring the crap out of you."_

_He looked at House to see what he would do next._

_"Now get out," he commanded._

_His eyes bulged. "Excuse me?"_

_"This car ain't big enough for the two of us," he said._

_"But-"_

_House poked Tony in the side with his cane. "Get. Out. Of. The. Car. Now!"_

_Tony shook his head violently and stuttered. "Sir...I-I can't...it's the rules..."_

_"They're not your rules, they're the dealerships' rules. And they're not mine either. I live by one rule and one rule only," he said, pushing him out of the car. Tony got out and closed the door, looking at House through the open window._

_"What's that?" he asked with narrowed eyes._

_House pulled his shades from his pocket and coolly placed them over his eyes. "Everybody lies."_

* * *

House shook his head, awaking from his daydream in time to hear the officer reveal the good part of the story. "He then drove out into the country and extracted the salesman from the vehicle, telling him that, and I quote, "This car ain't big enough for the two of us", end quote."

Cameron laughed. She turned to House for an explanation, or an excuse; whichever she could get out of him. "You really said _that_? Poor guy..."

He looked at her as innocently as he could. "What? He was crowding me! And he smelled like dead fish."

She smiled and turned back to Bryan. "Then what happened?"

"Then he drove off, stranding the salesman..."

Cameron leaned over to House and scolded him. "Stranded, huh? Now you know how it feels." House scoffed.

"He drove around for a few more hours and stopped at an adult bookstore, where we apprehended him and the stolen vehicle and took them back to the station," explained Bryan.

"Figures," she huffed. "But what happened to the salesman?"

House scoffed at her. "Oh, Cameron! Always worried about the underdog. It doesn't matter; he stunk like the lavatories at Yankee Stadium!" Then he grinned at his creative insult, knowing that Cameron hated sports metaphors.

Cameron glared at House's insensitivity towards the innocent salesman. He rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear? He got a ride back. Otherwise, I would've gotten away Scot-free. Why is it that, whenever I tell this story, no one's ever worried about what happened to my bike? Aren't you the least bit curious about it?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I already know it went to the impound."

He looked at her in curiosity. "How do you know it was impounded?"

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "That's what they do to all of the vehicles they confiscate. Plus, you moped about it for weeks."

He turned to Bryan. "You got working pipes here or do I need to find a really tall bush?"

"We've been using the sewer system. There's a nice secluded storm drain built into the curb of the Hospital driveway," he explained, pointing to the drive. "The government's turned off the water supply to certain parts of the city after they evacuated everyone out. It's been killing us not to be able to use the bathrooms!"

"Great," he grumbled, standing up. He glanced at Cameron. "If I'm not back in five minutes, I was probably found by a rescue hooker."

Bryan's ears perked up at his comment and watched Cameron choke on her water. She looked at Bryan and then back at House. To help ease Bryan's accusing glance, she played it off as if he'd been kidding. "If you found one, she'd probably already be dead and floating, by now."

"Touché," he replied, limping off around the corner.

Bryan raised a brow at her. "Is he serious?"

"No one can really ever tell," Cameron laughed. "He's...complicated."

He smiled at Cameron. "Congratulations. You, ma'am, have no prior convictions; felonies, or misdemeanours. Not even a measly parking or speeding ticket."

"Thanks," she smiled.

"So, what brings an angel like you, and a crazy cripple like him, to our fair deserted city?" he joked.

Her smile became forced, falling into a near-frown. Sure, people said things like that about him all the time, but as much as they tried to hate him, they saw that he did some good, but this officer, spoke of him like Vogler did; like House was a bug that needed to be crushed.

"We're here to help with disaster relief," she explained.

He stuck his thumb out, pointing behind him. "And, him?"

"He's...on vacation."

Bryan snorted. "I don't think he came here for the scenery..."

Cameron looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, everyone knows this is a giant wasteland right now. No man, in his right mind or not, would come here and spend his time off picking up garbage from the streets, unless it was to impress someone or had major advantages. If he really wanted to come here for a vacation, he would've passed until this all cleared up."

"You're here to help. What's he here for?"

Cameron was stunned by the uncomfortable question, and sat pondering the very same question. _Surely he's here for the time off of clinic duty. It can't be because of me. Although, we did kiss. And he did confess that he trusts me and cares about what I think of him. Then there's the fact that he said we were engaged..._

"Well," she said, nervously, "he's here for..."

"Moral support," House interjected, sneak-limping out from behind the officer, and joining Cameron at her side, who was simply flabbergasted by his answer.

"No, seriously, what brought you here," asked Officer Camfield.

"Well, first it was a lame mini-van, then we upgraded to a '67 Shelby GT500, and then we were forced to ride with the devil and a redneck named Hank."

He shook his head. "Okay, why are you here?"

"I had to take a leak. Why are _you _here?"

"My boss told me to come here."

"Same here," House replied, grinning. He was surprised how smoothly this question evading was going.

"Why are you still here?" he asked.

"Because we've got nowhere else to go."

Bryan gave up. "Ok, so where are you headed?"

"We need to get to the Greyhound Station downtown. Our contact, Steve is supposed to be there," Cameron explained.

Bryan looked at their bags and then back to them. He looked to Cameron. "We're you planning on _walking _the whole way? I don't think he'll make it very far."

House protested, "You _do _know that I'm standing _right _here_, don't you?_"

He ignored him. "I meant that it's a pretty good distance from here, even if he wasn't lame."

"Hey!" House repeated, "Still right _here_!"

"We don't really have any other options, unless we could get a ride there," she said hopefully, subtly asking for a ride.

"Well," he said, "our stakeout shift ends in about ten minutes. If you can hang around, my partner and I can give you a lift to the bus station."

Cameron smiled at his offer. "Thank you, we appreciate the offer and would love a ride."

Bryan nodded. "Great. I'll go let my partner know. Make yourselves at home."

They watched as he walked away, going to talk to the other policeman that stood on the other side of the drive.

House narrowed his eyes at Cameron. She was surprised at his accusing glare. "What?"

He raised the pitch of his voice to a falsetto pitch, mocking her. "Yes, we'd love a ride, Byron-"

Cameron frowned and folded her arms. "Bryan," she corrected him.

He snorted. "He's an idiot."

"He's a nice guy," she said, defending him.

He cringed at the looks the officer gave Cameron. "He' s an idiot who wants to get in your pants."

"So, you're saying that anyone who wants to sleep with me is an idiot?"

"No," he said, knowing he was now treading on thin ice. "Anyone who _wouldn't _want to sleep with you is an idiot. But _he_," he said, pointing to the officer, "simply happens to be an idiot who, coincidently, wants to get into your pants."

"So, does that make _you _an idiot?" she said, grinning.

House smiled back, vaguely. "No, I fall into a different category."

She looked into his eyes to see that his words were free of sarcasm and full of honesty. "Which one?"

He inhaled sharply through his teeth. "That would be the 'I'm too old, sarcastic, mean, snaky, and I'm your boss, but I'd totally do you' category."

Cameron smiled weakly. "Well, maybe someday you could switch over to the 'I don't care that I'm your older, meaner boss, and I'd love to be with you' category."

"How do you do that?" he asked, half-smiling.

"Do what?" she breathed.

"Make everything huge seem so simple?"

She grinned. "Because it is."

If there was a more perfect time for House to make a move, this would've been it, if those stupid cops wouldn't have been there watching them like hawks.

"So," she said, "why are you here, House?"

He tapped his cane against the ground in thought before speaking. "I was hoping to catch Mardi Gras, but I think they postponed it..."

She sighed. "You're here to swap beads for boobs?" she asked, shaking her head.

"No," House admitted. "Actually, I'm here to-"

"You folks ready to go?" Bryan shouted, walking straight for them. They both groaned simultaneously and smiled sadly at each other, knowing he was about to open up to her. They grabbed their bags and walked towards the SUV, throwing them into the back.

As they climbed into the back seat, Bryan introduced them to his partner, Jake who simply nodded at them. They all fell into an awkward silence and drove peacefully across town, with nothing to look at as they drove by but boarded up houses and lives left behind.

* * *

After a few minutes, the SUV pulled up to the Greyhound Bus and Amtrack Station. It was pretty desolate, aside from surrounding cop cars and palm trees. They circled into the middle of the C-shaped driveway and pulled into a parking spot in front of the cream colored building. Cameron smiled at the two gentlemen in the front seats.

"Thank you, again, so much for the ride."

"No problem. Hope you find your group here," he said, while they pulled their bags out of the trunk. Cameron pulled hers over to a small set of four chairs that were fastened to the ground under the canopy, up against the building. House limped over to the chairs and sat down, waiting for her to get done. She walked back with another bag. She frowned at him. "You _could_ help, you know…"

He patted his leg. "Bum leg."

She set the bag down and put her hands on her hips, scolding him. "Someday, you'll no longer be able to be lazy and blame it on your leg."

He glared at her and hit her with the best sarcastic remark he could come up with in the tired state he was in. "Yeah, tomorrow I'll wake up and it'll be perfect again! Remind me to sign up for the Race for the Cure when we get back home."

She growled and turned back to go grab the rest of the bags from the car. "You could, at _least_, go find our contact!"

He sighed heavily. "What's his name?"

"Steve," she yelled back.

"Fine," he growled. "But if he tries to run from me, I'm not chasing after him!"

Cameron snorted. "Like you could," she muttered under her breath.

"I heard that!" he shouted over his shoulder as he walked into the station.

Cameron grinned, and started pulling their bags into the station one at a time. If they were going to wait, she wanted out of the scalding heat. She pulled them inside and sat them down next to a cool metal chair. When she finished, she collapsed in the chair next to it, panting heavily.

The place was filled with law enforcement officials, aside from the janitor who stood a few feet away in a dark green jumpsuit, mopping the floor.

"Hello there," he said nicely to Cameron, attempting to strike up a conversation.

She smiled at him. "Hi," she replied.

"Pretty hot out there, isn't it?"

She chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, it's a scorcher."

"Where are you from?"

Cameron felt a little uncomfortable divulging that kind of information to someone she didn't know, so she kept her answers vague. "New Jersey," she replied.

"Wow!" he said, "you're sure a long way from home!"

"Yeah," she answered, sadly. Suddenly the reality of being so far away from home hit her, and _hard_.

"You here helpin' out?"

Cameron started to answer him, but was cut off.

"Cameron!" House shouted across the room, standing next to a female sheriff he was talking to.

She turned her head at the shout.

"Cameron?" asked the janitor. "That's a beautiful name," he complimented her, grinning.

She smiled at him and tried to thank him, but was cut off again by House's yelling.

"Stop talking to the inmates!" he yelled.

"House!" Cameron snapped at him, "What are you talking about?"

The Sheriff looked over towards them and started screaming, also.

"Simmons! No talking to civilians! Get back to work!"

Cameron turned back to the man in the dark green jumpsuit and stared at him with wide eyes. _He's an __**inmate**__!?_

House smirked as Cameron sat in shock at the man who tipped his hat to her and went back to mopping. "It's been nice talkin' to ya, ma'am."

She turned back and watched House and the Sheriff converse for a moment, before he walked back and sat down next to her.

"Good news - I found someone who's _not_ a convicted felon in here. Bad News - I'm pretty sure the "janitor" you were talking to is smarter. Good news - We can rest here as long as we need to. Bad news - There's no guy named Steve here. Good news - There _is_ a FEMA office here in New Orleans. Bad news - No one knows where it is. Good News – They have working indoor plumbing here. Bad news," he paused in thought. "Nope, I think that's it."

Cameron rubbed hands over her face and sighed heavily.

House held out a cup of red liquid. "Want a drink?"

She nodded and took the cup from him, taking a sip from it.

"I got it from that other nice "janitor" of there, behind the table," he grinned.

Cameron's eyes grew wide as she spit it back into the cup, handing it back to him.

He took the cup and looked at in disgust. "Eww! I don't want this anymore, you backwashed in it!"

She growled at him. "What are we going to do? Could this day get _any_ worse?"

He moved to hand it back to her, and her arm moved at the same time, knocking the contents of the cup straight towards her and onto her blouse. She shrieked at the cold Kool-Aid that soaked her, while House looked sympathetically at her.

She let her breath out of her puffed up cheeks. "I had to ask…"

* * *

Hugh Laurie still sitting in the bathtub with rubber ducky.

"Oh, What ho! The strangest thing's just happened. I've been told that if there are enough reviews posted, I'm under the obligation to stand from my warm, relaxing bubble bath. I've been informed that it's a form of fundraiser, per se. So, review away ladies (and or gentlemen), it's for a good cause!"

(Review, please! You know you want to...he he he)


	25. That's Blood: Chapter 24: Part 1

A/N: Dear Readers, I apologize for the wait on this chapter! It may seem a little small, but that's because I broke it down into two chapters, so this is Chapter Twenty Four and the next one will be Chapter Twenty Four Point Five. I know you all love this story, but I hit writer's block with the filler, but I think it cleared up pretty nicely, so without further adu, here's Chapter 24 of Everybody Out of the Water. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

**_That's Blood..._**

He watched as she stared, intently, at the floor in front of her.

"You know what? I've always thought red was your color. Like that red dress you wore at Cuddy's Las Vegas themed benefit dinner," House grinned, secretly trying to compliment her.

She heard nothing but a low and deafening mumble coming from somewhere next to her, as if she were underwater.

"Well, Cameron, I forfeit; the janitors have spoken! You've won the wet T-shirt contest!"

A tinge of worry hit him when she still didn't respond.

She heard another incoherent grumble that sounded a lot like someone calling out for her, but she found herself almost not wanting to look at anything but her shoes. Another few seconds flashed and something was being waved in front of the tile. She was pretty sure it was a hand, human too, but she didn't want to pay attention to anything but the floor. Her mind was arguing with itself over what they were going to do. They were stranded, in the middle of an abandoned city, with nowhere to go and without a way to get back home.

House waved his hand in front of her face, desperately trying to draw her attention back to his world and out of her desolated one.

The bits and pieces of a misunderstood word were thrown at her; the same one, repetitiously repeated, over and over again. She studied the tile under her foot, until her eyes doubled it, and tried to figure out what the word could be. As she mentally ran through numerous possibilities, she noticed the word started to become clearer.

"…am..on."

"Cam..r..n?"

"Cameron!" House called, shaking her by the shoulder.

She inhaled sharply, surprised by the forceful movement, and shook her head, taking in her surroundings.

"What?"

He squinted at her. "Smokin' the reefer again?"

"No," she said, knitting her brows together. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just making sure you weren't dosing and holding out on me. You know, share and share alike, and all crap about karma and the golden rule."

She dug into her bag and retrieved the Naproxen cylinder, popping it open and dry swallowing a couple of pills.

"Hypocrite," he snipped at her as she dug into her back pack again.

She rolled her eyes and pulled out a bottle of water, swallowing half of the bottle. She recapped it and put it back, holding her head in her hands and rubbed her temples.

"Sorry, were you saying something before?"

"Right," he said, clearing his throat, "as I was saying, she grabbed her glass of wine and chucked it at me! And, we're not talking about a tiny girl who throws like a sissy… we're talking, like, a big, fat lesbian girl!"

"You probably deserved it," said Cameron, trying to listen in-between throbs that pulsated through her head.

"The witch nearly ruined my favorite Stones shirt!" he grumbled.

"That stinks…"

"I always hated her…"

"You hate everybody, House," Cameron reminded him.

He ignored her comment, still visualizing the memory, his anger building.

"You know what she used to do?"

"Nope."

"She used to do this scrunching thing with her nose when she got all ticked off at me…"

"Uh, huh," Cameron said robotically, now completely oblivious to the fact that she was answering him.

"She had an uncanny resemblance to a platypus, with her lips all stuck out, and the nose scrunching…"

"Neat."

He was about to continue, when her reply struck him. "_Neat_? No, there's nothing _neat_ about a woman who can manipulate your best friend and ruin Poker Night."

"Yup."

He turned his head sideways, picking up on her lack of attention to the conversation. He grabbed the ball and ran with it.

"But, after I told her that Wilson was gay, she ripped off my clothes and tried to rape me."

"No kidding," she said. His change of words, but not tone, did nothing to bring her out of her trance.

"Yeah. She was all over me, but I told her that I was too madly in love with you to be with her."

Cameron stared into space. "Amazing."

He grinned. "And then she backed off after I told her my plan on marrying you, screwing you, and then adopting some starving, third world rug rats from Guatala-who the heck cares."

"Humph."

"So, let's get to it!"

"Yeah, it's…" Cameron shook her head, noticing she agreed to something, but she had no idea what. "Wait! What?"

He gazed smugly at her. "You just offered to show me some moves you learned from Carmen Electra's Strippercise videos to prove to me just how well they do, in fact, work.

She looked at him in disbelief. "What?! I'm not stripping for you, House!"

"But, Cameron!" he pouted. "Think of all the sad, lonely convicts in this place that haven't seen, so much as, a Victoria Secret Ad in fifty years. If you won't do it for me, at least give a little butt smack for them."

She glanced around the room, only to blush as a large group of coverall-clad inmates stared at her, grinning lustfully.

She glared angrily back at him and snapped at him in a low voice through gritted teeth. "House! I'm not taking my clothes off for you or anyone else!"

He stuck out his lower lip and batted his eyelashes at her. "Just show a little bra strap…" he pleaded.

"No!"

"You won't now, but we both know you would've gladly given me a private show a couple years ago," he winked.

Cameron's mouth bobbed open like a fish, searching for something to say, but was unable to speak the words.

He saved her from having to and continued. "You don't know, for sure, that you did or didn't, say anything about shaking it for me and that probably has something to do with the fact that you haven't been listening to a word I've said for the past fifteen minutes."

She sighed. "Did you actually say anything worth listening to?"

He snorted.

"You should know by now, that _everything_ I say is worth listening to! Sucks for you that you missed the good part." He looked around the room. The men were all still watching her, waiting to see if she'd go through with it. Something inside of him stirred. It was an emotional cocktail of anger and jealousy. He frowned at the feeling. The last time he felt this way was when he was with Stacy. But this was different. It was a lot stronger.

"Sorry, guys, she said no. Show's over! No conjugal visits for you! She's mine and if she takes it off for anybody, it'll be me!" he growled at them, adding in his bit of his trademark cynicism and inappropriate sexual comments. The truth of the situation was undeniable, though. He was protecting her, fighting off anyone else who wanted her.

The group all groaned and shuffled apart from each other, continuing their previous tasks of cleaning the station in disappointment.

He stood to his feet and grabbed Cameron by the arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"What about our stuff?" she asked, reluctantly standing up and pointing to the stack of luggage.

He looked down at it. "Leave it for now, we'll be back."

"But they could steal our supplies!"

He smirked. "We're in a building full of cops, and most of them are men. I'm pretty sure your feminie hygiene products are in no danger."

She looked questioningly at him. "Where are we going?"

"Officer Halitosis, over there, insists that there's some offices set up down by the marina. Evidently, we find the casino boats; we find the feds," he said, walking out the door with her. "I haven't figured out if there's something to that, or if it's merely a coincidence."

* * *

Five miles is a lot to cover in hundred degree weather for two people, but it's bound to be a lot more stressful to an old man with a limp. They staggered down the middle of the street to avoid glass that would periodically fall from the higher levels of damaged skyscrapers. Civilian cars lined the side of the streets with windows busted out of them, matching them to the same ill-fated buildings they walked by.

Most of the damage and theft occurred right before Marshall Law was called on the city of New Orleans and a curfew was set. Cameron looked at her watch.

4:12 p.m.

She looked over at House, who was panting pretty heavily and sweating profusely.

"You know, this looks nothing like it did in the brochure and I don't remember asking for the sauna. I'm suing our travel agent."

"If I knew where the Four Seasons was down here, we could get a room there. I'd totally be wading in the pool right now, she said, wistfully, thinking of the cool water hitting her body.

House groaned. "Stop torturing me, evil woman!"

She was too tired to laugh, so she resorted to smiling in between harsh, shallow breaths.

They could see the marina from where they were, and it was close. Cameron seemed to be dragging, while oddly enough, House was in the lead, no doubt managing from popping pain pills.

"Can…we…stop…or slow…down…again?" she panted.

"What? No, we can't got to…make good time, whiner!" he teased, speeding up.

As they kept walking, Cameron started to feel her side cramping up. It was probably from the exercise. She walked a lot on her treadmill, but this was considered extremely strenuous for one day. She held her side and kept walking, trying to catch up with House. He noticed her turtle-racing speed and chided her about it.

"Wow, Cameron, you're a weakling! The cripple beat you!"

"House," she said, out of breath.

"I think you should race me when we get back. I could make a killing off of you. No one will suspect it, and why would they? Not many people can loose to a guy with one leg."

"You have two legs. One's just retarded, like you," she snapped.

"Ah, so you are PMSing!," he smirked. He slowed down a little for her, but they kept the pace steady.

Walking a bit farther, they came across the main street along the shore. They walked past the aquarium, they saw a mess tent, with people handing out food for volunteers.

"Food!" House exclaimed, so enthused that Cameron was sure he was about to start jumping up and down.

"Okay, let's go," she said, following him.

They were making headway until Cameron felt a strange popping sensation in her leg. _Well, that's strange,_ she thought. Assuming it would go away, she kept walking. Soon, the popping spread all the way down to her knee. It quickly became too painful for her to walk. She gritted her teeth to get past the pain, but it hurt just the same.

"House," she said, this time it came out as a whimper.

"Come on, Cameron, we're almost the-," he stopped mid-sentence when he caught a glimpse of her.

She was deathly pale, starting to sway a little bit, looking like she could pass out at any second. He hurried behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to help her walk without loosing the function of his own legs.

_Great,_ he thought. _A cripple leading the crippled_.

As they staggered down the sidewalk towards the concession tent, another tent came into sight, yielding a large white circle with a giant red cross inside of it. It looked like they stole it from the set of MASH.

_A medic tent!_ he thought anxiously, thankful it wasn't far. When they came within yelling distance, House screamed at the top of his lungs for help, grabbing the attention of several paramedics that stood around. He watched as the men in dark blue ran down the sidewalk towards them, the buffest guy took Cameron into his arms. She looked like a young child draped over his arms.

"Do you need a wheelchair, sir?" one of them asked.

"No. Listen," he said, stopping him from walking to talk to him. "My name's Greg House. I m a-"

The young EMT s eyes widened in surprise. "Diagnostician from Jersey. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. House! I went to one of your lectures on the-"

House waved his hand in front of the guy. "I'm awesome, I know. You can bow down and worship me later; I don't care about that right now. That woman, up there, that the Hulk is carrying," he said, pointing to the man running Cameron to the tent, "her name's Allison Cameron. Something wrong; check her right leg and her right flank. She's asthmatic and severely hydrated. Start her on a saline drip and pain killers."

The paramedic nodded. "Yes sir, Dr. House."

He grabbed him by the arm and pulled his face close. "She's a doctor too, so don't explain to her what you're doing unless she asks. We make the worst patients."

The guy nodded again and they walked up to the medical tent where they were checking Cameron's vitals and strapping her in for a ride in the ambulance parked next to it.

"Where's your headquarters set up at?" House asked him.

"The ship sir," he said, pointing to the dock which usually houses the casino boats and cruise ships. House nodded and climbed into the front seat of the ambulance, watching the interaction between Cameron and the body-builder paramedic in the back.

"Ever been in an ambulance before?" he asked, trying to keep her awake.

She nodded and smiled sadly. "Yeah, a few times. Some on this side, some on yours."

He pulled out a syringe and an IV kit, cleaning off her hand before piercing her skin. "Don't look," he said, warning her from the sight below her line of vision.

House coughed, glaring at the medic he talked to before to signal to the muscular one. The medic grabbed a clipboard and wrote out a note to him, holding it up for the other to see.

_Don't baby her, she's a doctor!_

He read the note and nodded, smiling down at Cameron.

She looked questioningly at the medic and then down to her hand. Blood poured from her hand and onto her dark navy blue tank top.

"Huh," she said in surprise, "look at that. I'm bleeding."

The medic chuckled. "Nice to meet you, Bleeding. I'm Gary."

House rolled his eyes and sighed.

She smiled at his corny joke, knowing he was only trying to take her mind off of everything else. "Cameron."

"Cameron. That's a beautiful name," he said, grinning. House glared at the medic who was so obviously flirting with her. "Did you know that you're also anemic?"

"Am I?" she asked, looking again. "Decreased red cell count? I didn't know that."

He smiled at her. "Yeah. So, what brings you to New Orleans?"

"I came here to help people," she said, laughing at the irony of the situation, in which her right side quickly punished her for, causing her to wince in pain. Thinking and talking, which were previously two simple motor skills, became harder to do, and more tiring than they were worth. She looked at the medic with helpless eyes. "Gary, can you do something for me?"

He nodded. "Well, I'll certainly try."

She smiled at his kindness. "Tell Hou…tell Greg that I'm sorry…"

House caught his first name being used and turned his head over his shoulder to listen to their conversation. The medic looked up at him and gave him a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if to say "I don't know what she talking about", and turned back to Cameron's pleading green eyes.

He shook his head. "Sorry for what, ma'am?"

"For lea…leaving…him," she stammered, immediately starting to gasp for air.

House's eyes narrowed at Cameron's words. _Leaving me? She's breaking up with me? We're not even together… What the-?_

His thoughts were interrupted as Cameron's heart rate and BP monitor sounded off. He gripped his cane tightly and climbed into the back of the ambulance, turning to the medic.

"She's going into respiratory arrest!" Gary shouted.

House froze in shock, while they tried to stabilize Cameron. After a moment, her lungs inflated again and her breathing returned, her mouth open, struggling to breathe in deeper. He felt so helpless, sitting there, while they worked on her. Shouts of pushing epinephrine and oxygen were muffled to him. The young EMT fumbled to grab a needle and pushed it through her IV.

House grabbed an oxygen mask next to him and held it to Cameron's face. She desperately reached to grab anything she could get her hands on, but the only thing within her grasp was House's wrist, the one holding her mask in place. He draped his other arm across the stretcher and let it lay against her waist, offered it to her to cling onto. She accepted it and began to cling strongly onto him for dear life.

He gulped harshly at the look in her eyes as they cried out to him for help. She was terrified. He'd die before admitting it to anyone else, but he was just as frightened as she was.

What do you do when the help become the helpless?

* * *

**Should I go on and post Chapter Twenty Four Point Five? Let me know, please review! Thanks! P.S. Since this is, technically, only half of a chapter, Hugh's still in the bathtub.**


	26. That's Tears: Chapter 24: Part II

A/N: Sorry about the delay, my awesome readers! I tried to post Part II on Saturday and I was having formatting problems, and Sunday, since it was Mother's Day, my mother hogged me for the day. I hope all of you mothers out there had a great time, here's my belated Mother's Day present to you all! I added on to it and made it longer to help apologize for the wait. Hope you're not too mad at me...oh, and please review! Thanks! : D

* * *

Chapter Twenty Four Point Five

_**That's Tears...**_

_**16:40**_

The paramedics wheeled Cameron's gurney aboard the USS Iwo Jima LHD-7. The giant battleship had them feeling no bigger than a knat's shoe size. They wheeled her up the main ramp and then ascended a couple more ramps to a higher floor. House followed as fast as his complaining, weak leg could carry him, so Cameron didn't feel like she was being abandoned.

Pushing through the Emergency Ward, they transferred her from the bed she lay on to an examination table. One of the naval M.D.s walked up to House and extended her hand in introduction. "Hi, I'm Dr. Gentry."

House ignored her friendly gesture and glared at her, secretly enjoying the confused look she bore when he didn't shake back. She lowered her arm, but continued to smile, figuring he was in shock instead of being unfriendly. She shrugged and turned to focus on the patient lying in front of her, having a hard time breathing.

"I'm Dr. Gentry and I'll be your attending physician today. What seems to be the problem?"

House's glare developed some anger to it. "She's lying on a stretcher, fighting to breathe and you can't figure out what's wrong? Where did you learn medicine from, reruns of Scrubs?"

She frowned and picked up a clipboard with a medical folder on it, nothing their arrival time.

"Patient's name?"

"Allison Cameron. _Doctor _Allison Cameron," he stressed, as if her occupational status would get her better medical attention and taken more seriously.

"Age?"

House paused and looked at Cameron. "Twenty nine?"

Cameron shook her head.

"Twenty Eight?" he guessed again.

She nodded. House turned back to Dr. Gentry. "Twenty Eight."

"What's your medical specialty?"

House was getting irritated with the unimportance of the questions. "Do we have to go through all of this irrelevant crap? She can't breathe; fix it!"

The doctor sighed. "Mister..."

"House. And that's Doctor, to you," he corrected her, "you glorified first year med student! You've got a nice figure going for you, though, so I assume you're still stripping your way through med school. Word of advice: Don't quit your night job, I'm willing to bet that you're better at that than fixing people anyway. Leave that to people who actually genuinely care about other people like Dr. Cameron here."

Her jaw dropped in astonishment at his insinuations.

"Do you work off the clock? I need change for a hundred and all the ATMs around here seem to be out of order."

She was well ready to yell at him for his sexual comments, when his name sunk in. Her angry features turned into surprised ones. "Dr. House? Dr. Gregory House? Crippled diagnostician extraordinare?"

"Oh, for the love of Freud!" he growled. "Focus on the patient, not the gossip that runs through the strip club locker room!"

She nodded. He was right; she could talk to him later, the patient comes first. "Dr. House, you, of all people, should know that I have to obtain an accurate medical history for Dr. Cameron."

"And when she can breathe again, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to tell you all of her girly little secrets, but until then, let her breathing regulate!"

"Okay," she sighed, putting down the clipboard and turning to Dr. Cameron. "Just let me know when you're ready."

Cameron shook her head, still holding tight to the oxygen mask.

"Can we precede to the physical exam?" she asked Cameron.

She hesitated, looking over at House. He snickered at her nervousness at having him in the room.

"You've got nothing I haven't seen before, Cameron," he reassured her. "Not that I would object to the free show... I'm willing to bet you'd give Dr. Strips-A-Lot a run for her money. Or my money; I'm willing to pay to see that."

House was sure he could sense her smiling, as a light blush crept up her neck and onto her face. Her pleading gaze held strong and was soon mixed with a slight hint of embarrassment. He growled as he turned towards the door and started to walk out of the room.

A small whimper from Cameron had his head craning back over his shoulder to make sure she was alright. She was focusing her apologetic eyes on him. He understood.

"I'll be right outside the door."

It was almost a very romantic gesture, but very un-House-like, until he added, "There's bound to be some hot nurses walk by. Chicks dig the cane. I wonder if this place has a Cuddy, too..."

Cameron was still nervous and wanted him to stay as close to her as possible, but she just didn't want him in the room at the moment. She kicked herself for making him think she didn't want him around. That was the furthest thing that could ever possibly be from the truth.

But House could read Cameron like an open book.

"I'm not going to leave you, Allie," he said, in a whisper so soft, he wasn't so sure he said it himself.

A tear ran down her cheek. This was the second time he called her "Allie", and each time he did, she was in a predicament where she was unable to respond. She sat there, letting the double meaning of his promise ring in her head and nodded at him, watching him walk out of the room.

"Ok," said Dr. Gentry. "I'm going to ask you some yes or no questions and all I need you to do is nod your head in response, okay?"

Cameron nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good, do you have any papers regarding a previous physical performed?"

She nodded yes.

"Okay, do you have them with you?"

Cameron shook her head no.

"Are they here within the city?"

Cameron nodded.

"Can someone go get them for us? Perhaps Dr. House?"

Cameron nodded and, like a round of Charades, motioned a request for something to write with. Dr. Gentry handed Cameron her clipboard and pen. Steadying her shaking hand as best as she could, she wrote _Backpack-Bus Station _and handed it back to the doctor.

"The Amtrak and Greyhound Station down the road?"

Cameron nodded.

Dr. Gentry smiled. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

She walked over to a phone mounted on the wall and spoke to someone who, Cameron could only assume, had a vehicle of use.

"Yes, I need some documents retrieved from the Greyhound Station over on Loyola...Yes, I need a transport and the papers will be retrieving by a Dr. Gregory House...Thank you, I'll send him right down."

Cameron stiffened. It hadn't occurred to her that if he was going to pick up her backpack, that it would require him to leave her, in order to do it.

Dr. Gentry noticed that she tensed up in insecurity. "Dr. Cameron, would you like to have a minute with Dr. House before he takes off?"

Cameron nodded and watched the physician walk through the door and stop half-way through it. Only low muffles could be heard from the two voices, what could only be directions for a quick journey down the street, before seeing the doctor walk down the hallway and am almost timid-like House step back into the room.

He shuffled over to the bed she laid on and brushed an imaginary hair out of her face.

"Evidently, I've been volunteered by the _Carebear Queen_," Cameron smiled as he continued, "to grab some of our junk, since they don't have Chase or Foreman here to do this sort of grunt work for them."

He tucked the invisible hair behind her ear and ran his thumb down the side of her cheek, wiping away a stray tear that ran down her face.

"What the crap! You send me away, so I get ready to go. When I'm ready to go, you get upset? I can't please you, woman!"

It started to look like Cameron was smiling, but her smile, along with her jaw, quivered, the ends of it turning down, and tears poured from her eyes.

"Oh, Cameron, stop crying. I don't know what to do when you cry. Usually when I make girls cry, it doesn't bother me. In fact, it gives me a sick satisfaction of accomplishment when I see an intern or a new nurse bolting for the bathroom." He sighed. "But when you cry, whether it's my evil doing or not, it sucks and I feel like Wilson does when his wives serve him."

When she continued to cry, he resorted to begging, something Greg House NEVER did.

"Please, stop crying..."

Cameron nodded and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"That's better. Now, if you're a good girl, I'll bring you back a souvenir when I get back..."

She tried huffing at him, but wound up coughing instead.

"I'll be back," he said, doing his best Terminator impression.

She rewarded him with a smile underneath her mask and watched him turn around to leave.

As he walked out the door, she felt her heart clench as it felt like her whole life walked out the door with him.

* * *

A man approached him, wearing military camouflage. "Are you Dr. Gregory House, sir?"

House narrowed his eyes. "Is that a trick question?"

"You don't know if you are Dr. House? Do you have amnesia?"

"If I do, I'll gladly not remember meeting you in a few minutes."

"Do you, sir?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you have amnesia, sir?"

"Do people with Alzheimer's remember that they have Alzheimer's?"

"Could you just answer the question, sir?"

"What question?"

"Are you Dr. House?"

"Sir," House corrected him, leaving the young man staring at him in confusion. "What you _meant _to say was, "Are you Dr. House, _sir_?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's better," he grinned and continued to stand as he was before, not offering any more information as if the conversation had ended.

The soldier rolled his eyes and sighed. "Are you, sir?"

"Am I _what_?"

"Are you Dr. House, sir?"

"I thought the question was whether or not I have amnesia," House answered smugly, arching a brow at him.

"It was, sir."

"Then why did you ask me if I was Dr. House?"

The frustrated soldier was about to go absolutely insane until Dr. Gentry walked back out into the hallway. "Dr. House? Dr. Cameron wants to know if you would mind bringing her whole backpack along with paperwork."

House nodded and watched as she walked back into Cameron's exam room. It was only a matter of time before the young kid found out, and he really needed to head out. The sooner he leaves, House thought, the sooner I can get back.

The young soldier mumbled something under his breath and led the way out of the ship, slowing only a little so that House could keep up.

House shrugged, grinning wickedly. "I've been called worse."

* * *

"Ok, Dr. Cameron..." said Dr. Gentry, walking back into the room.

Cameron pulled the oxygen mask away from her face, feeling a little more confident to breathe on her own. She wiped the tears from her face and tried out her voice. It was cracking and strained; hard to speak loudly.

"I'm sorry," she said, "what was that?"

Cameron took a deep breath. "I said, you can just call me Cameron. Everyone else does."

"Well, what would you _like _me to call you?"

"Cameron is fine."

The doctor nodded appreciatively. "Very well, and you may call me Melissa or Gentry, if you'd like. We tend to go by last names a lot here. Where are you from, Cameron?"

"Princeton, New Jersey," she croaked out.

"And, what brought you here?"

"I came here to help with disaster relief," she replied. Gentry nodded, writing it down.

"Ok, Cameron. When was your last menstrual cycle?"

Cameron cringed. She knew that eventually, the embarrassing questions would come about. She still found it silly that after all this time, when it came to her being said patient and being asked said questions, she was still shy of answering.

"Um...now, actually."

She nodded and wrote. "Are you sexually active?"

"Yes."

"And, when was your last act?"

"Las-last act?" Cameron stuttered. That wasn't a question she was normally asked. _Let's see here. There was my husband, and then Chase. I was still with him, so that was, what? A couple of months? Yeah, I think that's about right._ "A couple of months."

"Ok," she said, writing," and, what are your symptoms?"

"I'm short of breath, a little lightheaded, tired, and there's pain and a popping sensation in my right side, thigh, and knee."

"Have you recently been ill?"

"I had a physical done before I came here. I was diagnosed with a UTI, but I've only been on the pills for a few days."

She nodded. "Alright. Let's continue the physical exam."

* * *

House climbed out of the olive drab painted Hummer as it pulled into the familiar bus terminal drive and stopped at the front door. Opening the glass door, he found their mountain of bags still sitting by the row of seats bolted to the wall.

Throwing some of them off to the side, he grabbed Cameron's backpack and started a new pile. He found his camouflaged duffel bag and opened it up, sweeping it's contents for a clean change of clothes. He grabbed a pair of jeans and his brown Queen shirt and threw them into one of his smaller bags that was easier to carry.

He grabbed up both bags and headed back out the door. He walked back up to the Hummer and threw them into the back.

"Huh," said the soldier that was designated to drive him.

House glared at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just imagined a girly pink backpack with little flowers and hearts all over it."

_Cameron's fighting in the ER and this punk's picking on her choice in luggage? Imbecile! _"Yeah," he snapped, "I'm sure your boyfriend would love to have one of those."

Not amused, the private drove on, muttering under his breath.

* * *

Dr. Gentry turned to Cameron with a weary smile.

"Dr. Cameron, do you have anyone appointed as your medical proxy?"

Cameron's eyes widened. _Medical Proxy? Am I dying?, _she wondered, her heart rate skyrocketing. It felt as the wind had been knocked out of her and she gasped for air. Dr. Gentry grabbed the mask and held it back up to her face.

"Cameron? Cameron! Breathe! Hun, it's okay, it's alright. You're okay," she reassured her, "you're okay."

Cameron calmed a little, but wanted answers to a million different questions that screamed in her mind.

"What...what am I...dying from?" she choked out.

Dr. Gentry felt terrible. "No, Dr. Cameron, you're not dying from anything."

Cameron let out a giant sigh of relief.

"It's customary for us to ask for appointed medical proxies or Power of Attorney for reference while you're in our care and, like yourself, from out of state. I'm sorry if I frightened you."

Cameron's heart slowed to normal rate. "It's alright. I just, wasn't expecting the question and when you mentioned it, my mind just raced at the possibilities."

"I understand. Do you have anyone lined up?"

Cameron nodded.

Being here by herself was really starting to freak her out. She closed her eyes and prayed House was on his way back.

* * *

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" he said, pulling back up in front of the ship.

He nodded. "Permission granted, Private Penis," he smirked.

"I don't like you, sir. You're aggravating and you have a clear problem with authority."

He huffed. "Really? Usually it's _authority _that has a problem with _me! _Good to know the feeling's mutual. Thanks for the insight," he said, climbing out of the vehicle and grabbing the bags from the back before heading in to see Cameron.

His leg started to feel like it was being strained, tempting him to pop a few Vicoden, but he pressed on, determined to get to Cameron before the pain overtook him.

He stopped in front of the room and knocked on the swinging door. After a minute of his leg's screaming temper tantrum, he let the bags fall to the floor and grabbed his pills from his pocket. He opened the bottle in haste, pouring out a couple of pills into his hand, and cracked them open with his teeth, before swallowing them. About to replace the lid, he noticed he had an amazingly large quantity of pills left over. He poured them into his hand, counting them. After numbering each one, he slid them back into the bottle and put it back in his pocket, astounded by his findings.

He still had 3/4ths of the bottle left. _But, that's impossible! I've had this bottle for almost a week! _

Dr. Gentry interrupted his thoughts when she pushed past the swinging door and turned to him. "Dr. House, did you bring the papers?"

He nodded, opened Cameron's backpack and pulled a medical file from it, handing it to the doctor. She flipped it open and skimmed over it.

"How is she?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "Dr. Cameron's doing good. We're treating her for the dehydration, the anemia and she's got a muscular strain in her right flank. It looks like she had a UTI before she got here, but it looks like that seems that her meds are taking care of that."

"Good. She decent?" he asked. _What? Since when do you care if a woman, especially as hot as Cameron, is decent? _

Dr. Gentry nodded. "I think I should warn you...Dr. Cameron's side pain was pretty intense. She rated her pain at a six out of ten, so we put her on a slight dose of morphine." She smiled. "She's...hallucinating a little bit, but I think she's feeling better."

He snorted. "Who wouldn't be? Got any to spare?"

She gave him a "yeah, right" glance and walked back into the room, House following her.

"Dr. Cameron?"

Laying in bed, with her eyes slightly droopy, Cameron didn't respond, but extended her arm into the air.

House stood in front of her, watching her reach into the sky like God, one he didn't believe in, was trying to hand her down something.

"Cameron?" he tried.

Something in Cameron's eyes sparkled when he spoke, something familiar, and it caused her to smile.

"That's Greg," she explained to the ceiling tiles. "He's a lot like you."

House, flabbergasted, turned to Dr. Gentry.

"Who's she talking to?"

She shrugged. "Whoever he is, she seems to know a lot about him, and it sounds like a need for approval. She's been talking to someone who's not there for almost a fifteen minutes."

"He?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded. "That's what she said. She's been practically trying to sell you to "him" like you're a piece of real estate. She made excuses for your faults, and praised your good attributes. If what she says is true, deep down, you're not such a bad guy, Dr. House."

He snorted. "She's _drugged _and she's talking to no one! Of _course _she thinks I'm a good guy."

Dr. Gentry shook her head and took his response with a grain of salt. "I drew some blood and sent it to the lab for a CBC. She doesn't seem to have any pain unless she moves or takes deep breaths. I also collected a urine sample and sent it to the lab as well. I'll let you know what we find out."

He nodded.

"We'll get an ultrasound of her right side, to make sure there's no damage to any of her vital organs. I'll be right back," she said, exiting the room.

He took a seat next to Cameron's bed, awkwardly feeling like a third-wheel to Cameron and her "imaginary friend", and sat back against the chair, listening to her converse.

"But..." she said, looking like she was about to cry. "What about _us_?"

_Us? She must be talking to someone she was close to, someone she lost. An ex-boyfriend? Her husband, maybe?_

"I'm sorry...I can't help it. I miss you and I love you, Brian..."

_Brian? Yeah, it's got to be her dead husband. What's she apologizing for? Crying?_

"But...I love _him_, too."

_Him? Who's him? Me, him? She's talking to her dead husband about me? _He sighed heavily. _Wow, this is awkward. He's dead, but I swear it feels like he's here in the room..._

"I will, I promise. Take care of the baby for me..."

_Baby? Well, that proves that theory I had going. Explains the reaction I got from the dying baby fight we had a while back._

Cameron stopped talking and drifted off to sleep. House expected the drugs would cause fatigue to take over her eventually. He stared at her, mentally asking her questions he wanted to many answers to, until Dr. Gentry came back to get an ultrasound of Cameron's side.

She greased the sonogram wand with some cool gel and lifted Cameron's gown until her abs were in view. She gently rolled it over her side, looking at the screen for any abnormalities. After exploring all of her side, she was very pleased to see everything in working order, and turned the machine off, wiping the gel from Cameron's side.

"Well, everything looks good. "We're about to move her to the recovery ward. Would you like to follow us down there?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Our bags are in the hall. Grab those, will ya?"

She walked out of the room and looked down the hallway, spotting a passing nurse. "Nurse! Could I get some help here, please?"

* * *

House grabbed the handles of a nearby wheelchair and pushed it over to the bed, gently nudging Cameron awake until she sat up in the bed.

"House?" she asked, arching a brow at the thought of him pushing a wheelchair, when he should be _in _one.

"Your chariot awaits," he smirked, gesturing to the chair.

She rolled her eyes and carefully climbed out of the bed and sat slowly down in the chair he stood behind. Seeing her shiver, mostly likely from the draft the hospital gown was giving off, he grabbed the blanket from the bed and threw it in her lap.

She smiled and reveled in his sweet action. _He's not the type to drape it over me, but in his own kind way, he threw me a blanket. That's doing something huge for someone like House._

When she turned back to the hallway in front of her, he let a smile of his own escape, knowing he put hers there, and pushed them out the door and down the hall.

* * *

_**20:00**_

House pushed Cameron into the recovery ward, up to a bed they directed him to which was empty, and surrounded by other wounded navy officers. He parked the wheelchair and help Cameron climb into the bed, being extra careful as she winced in pain at the movement of her side.

"Okay," said the nurse, hooking Cameron up to a monitor, "let's check your vitals real quick."

BP 104/62

Heart Rate 74

Respiratory Rate 18

Temp 98.7

The nurse nodded, turning to Cameron. "If you need to use the restroom, call for one of us, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, she gets it," said House, waving the frowning nurse away.

Cameron laid back in the bed, guarding her abdomen with her arm.

She sniffled back a sob.

"Cameron?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?" he asked with a caring tone she'd rarely heard.

"Nothing. It's childish."

_Great, now I'm curious. Good going, Allie. _"You could say it anyway," he said, pulling up a nearby chair.

"Promise you won't mock me?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Only if what you say has nothing to do with sunshine and puppies, I promise."

"I want to go home."

He looked straight into her eyes and then stared at the floor, tapping his cane on the tile. "I know."

She closed her eyes, wishing they were back in New Jersey, in the conference room, in the middle of a differential diagnosis. She'd give anything to be yelled at for suggesting Lupus instead of being here.

As she day dreamed of familiar and comforting situations, her breathing grew slower and more shallow. He figured she was almost asleep when she took a deeper, more relaxed breath.

"I love you, Greg," she muttered before falling into a deeper sleep.

House's chest tightened, as he stood up from the chair and ran his fingers over Cameron's hand. He looked at Cameron adoringly, a half-smile gracing his face, ignoring the sleeping bodies around them.

"I...think...I love you too, Allie."

* * *

Hugh's been in the bathtub for so long, his fingers are as wrinkly as prunes. "My word! I do believe my bottom's fallen asleep! Jeeves!"

Jeeves walks into the bathroom.

"Yes, sir?"

"A towel, Jeeves, and the bath needs let out."

Jeeves nods. "Very good, sir."

Hugh stands from the bubble filled bathtub. His muscular body gleams as light reflects from his chest. Bubbles have dalmationed his body and coated his cough nether region cough. ; )

Jeeves brings Hugh a towel. He steps out of the bath and before reaching for it, Hugh turns around to moon us with his baby-soft, perfectly sculpted, rear-end.

(Now I know why his ducky has wide eyes and a large grin on it's face! Can you blame him?)

So, Chapter 24.5. Did it suck? Please, do tell...


	27. I'm Treadin' High Water 2 Get Back 2 You

Chapter Twenty Five

_**Now I'm Treadin' High Water**_

_**23:00**_

Cameron woke up with pain severely stabbing at her right side. It felt as if someone was literally slicing through her side with a knife. She glanced around to tell House, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Cameron panicked.

"Nurse!" she yelled, disturbing the men who were in the beds surrounding her's.

Dr. Gentry rushed to Cameron's bedside to see her face contorted in pain. "Dr. Cameron, are you alright?"

She shook her head. "My side! It's killing me! Please, make the pain stop..."

She frowned. "Unfortunately, we don't want to give you any more pain medications because we're afraid that numbing the pain will mask your symptoms."

Cameron frowned, close to tears. "Where's Dr. House?"

"We set him up with one of the more comfortable cots in the men's barracks."

She was glad to hear they tried to make him comfortable, but she felt so lonely without him.

"Have you tried changing positions?" Dr. Gentry asked.

She shook her head.

"Try sleeping on your left side, and see if that helps," Dr. Gentry suggested, before walking off to see another patient.

She rolled her eyes, but followed orders, resting on her left side. _It might relieve the pressure, but my side will still hurt,_ she thought sadly. _How are we going to get out of here?_

* * *

_**23:55**_

Cameron's stats were sitting normal which was a good sign. She was able to sleep a little more, but she was once again, awaken, this time by her bladder.

She looked around, but found no one to call. She carefully lowered the railing to her bed and picked up her backpack, waddling into the bathroom.

The bathroom reminded her of the Girl's Bathroom in high school, with the metal stalls and the yellow-painted brick walls. She walked down the row of stalls and entered the handicap stall, designed for wheelchairs. She didn't think anyone in a wheelchair would be up at this time of night, and the railings were comforting to have on hand.

After relieving herself, she flushed the toilet and sauntered over to the other side of the stall, next to the door, and sat down. It was an odd place to sit, but a room full of all male bed-resting soldiers, she felt like this was the safest and most private place she had accessible to her.

She used this time to think about things. Herself, House, their current situation...and then she remembered the card Chase had given her.

She unzipped her bag and dug for it, finding it hiding towards the bottom. She pulled it out and opened it, looking at the front of the card.

It had a sparkle-lined picture of a little girl with a giant teddy bear on the front of it that made her smile. Opening it up, a few things fell into her lap. She took a quick glance at the things that had fallen and noticed there were two additional envelopes with it. Looking back at the card, she read it's contents.

"_Dear Allie,_

_I hope you have a great time in New Orleans. You'll be missed by everyone here in New Jersey, especially me. Every second spent without you, is like a..._

She predicted the rest of his card was lined with words describing his insatiable love for her, and as sweet as it was, decided she wasn't in the mood to read it coming from Chase.

Picking up the envelopes that fell, she turned over the next one that was addressed to her.

Tearing it at the seal, she pulled out a note that enclosed a couple of photographs. Taking a quick glance at them, she could tell they were taken from the Oncology Benefit that Cuddy had thrown as a fundraiser not long ago. She unfolded the letter that was attached and started to read...

_Dear Dr. Cameron,_

_On behalf of the entire staff here at Princeton, including House even though he'll deny it, we wish you the best of luck on your trip to Louisiana. We're so very proud of you for lending your services to those in need._

_On a more personal note, I know that traveling great distances and for long periods of time, can cause people to become homesick. Working with you has always made it seem like we're all a part of a different, more dysfunctional type of second family. Please have a safe and wonderful trip!_

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Lisa Cuddy_

_P.S. I've enclosed some pictures of the benefit I threw for the Oncology Department to remind you that we're all backing you up while you're there, and we'll be here for you when you return._

Cameron quickly glanced at them as they sat in her lap and opened the other card which had Cameron written on the front in what seemed to be House's handwriting. She pulled out the letter and read it slowly.

_Cameron,_

_I wasn't going to get you a card, but Cuddy threatened me with a month's worth of clinic duty if I didn't write you something. Cuddy wanted a "nice gesture" from me, but we both know how big I am on those. I was going to settle for a dirty limerick, but I couldn't find a good enough rhyme for stethoscope..._

_You don't have to leave. No one's forcing you to go. If you wanted to help people, you could've stayed here and kept me safe from all the sick people. And what about the patients? They'll be sorry you ever step foot outside the automatic door when I go into work the first day you're gone, I guarantee it. I've got a fifty riding on it._

_New Orleans is going to be a pretty crazy place; they don't call Marshall Law on a city for no reason. You'll see dead people, drowned animals, tons of water, broken buildings, trashed streets, and worst of all, the loss of lives. I know how you'll take it, and that's why you're going to need a roll of T.P. and a jar of Vaseline. Apply it under your nose to keep the stench of death away. Don't believe me? I tried it on Cuddy and I haven't smelled her for almost a year now. If it weren't for the heels, she'd ambush me from a yard away and I'd never see it coming'._

_Wilson came in my office this morning and said he'll miss you. Then he gave me a cup of coffee. That's when it hit me! Who's going to make coffee while you're gone? Wilson's makes bad coffee, Chase can't read the instructions, and Foreman's said he won't do it because he's, "not a slave"._

_And what happens when we have a case and we have a differential diagnosis. You won't be there to suggest the disease that never is! And my mail! It's already stacked to the ceiling and you've haven't even left yet! I tried to open a letter yesterday, and it attacked me. I had paper cuts everywhere! It was The Greatest Paper Cut War of The 21__st__ Century! And for once, the good guys didn't win._

_So, now this is going to be about as...fluffy... as I get, so enjoy it now because I'm only writing this once._

_I don't want you to go, for many reasons; only a few of them pertain to my own selfish reasons and I think you're an idiot for going, but I'm proud of you. Now, hurry up so you can come back home before I tear Chase a new one and racially insult the delinquent to the point of quitting._

_House_

_Hmm,_ she wondered. _House must've written this before Cuddy forced him to go with me. And it must've been added to the mix of letters by accident._

She picked up the photos in her lap. The shots were taken by the costly photographer Cuddy hired for the evening. All taken from a higher angle and pointing down at the table that the table that had been reserved for the Diagnostic Department, he was able to catch all of their smiling faces. Circling the table, she mentally labeled everyone as she took in their fancy state of attire.

She saw herself sitting on the left side of the table in her strapless red gown, smiling as Chase and Foreman sat on both sides of her. Chase was dressed all in all black, accenting his shiny blonde hair, while Foreman wore his dark navy blue suit, light colored shirt, and his periwinkle tie. Cuddy sat the closest to the photographer in her flowing royal blue dress; next to Chase, and Wilson sat next to her in a very complimenting white and black tux. They all smiled to the camera, happy to be there, but someone was missing.

Cameron thought back to that night, remembering that House had been making friends with the open bar's bartender. She wasn't really surprised that he wasn't in any of the photos, just...slightly disappointed.

She flipped through a few more photos when she caught one that was taken of her and Wilson. There was a blurred man standing in the background in a tuxedo, similar to Wilson's, on the very right of the picture. It looked like he was leaning heavily onto a counter. The bar, perhaps? Was it House?

She flipped back through the other photos until she noticed he was in one that was taken of her and Cuddy, and it seemed to be a little clearer. Sure enough, the blurred man was House, but there was something different about the House in the last picture, and the one in this one. As blurred as the first one had been, she swore she could make out his brows knitting together, as if he disapproved of Wilson's arm on her back. But this one, his face was relaxed and...what is that??

At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but squinting her eyes, they focused more clearly on his face. House was smiling?? It was a small, but not completely missed, half-smile on his face...

...his eyes were focused on _her_.

* * *

_**...To Get Back To You**_

He was looking at _her_! She was the reason he was smiling!

She let out a half-sob, half-laugh, as tears began to roll down her cheek.

The thought of it made her heart leap in her chest, but they were in no situation to act upon any feelings they might have for each other. Cameron slid the photos back into the card and walked out of the stall and back into the sleeping area.

A graveyard-shift nurse noticed Cameron's waterworks and approached her.

"Dr. Cameron? Are you alright?" she asked with a sympathetic voice.

"I'm fine...I (sob) just (sob) want (sob) to go...(sob) home!" she cried, breaking into a hysterical meltdown. She was sure the hormones that were raging from that time of the month were to blame, as well.

"Honey, I know, I'm sorry...here, let's get you back into bed," she gently coaxed her, leading her to the gurney she'd been sleeping in.

After adding the fact that Cameron's crying didn't stop for an hour straight, onto the numerous complaints of the other concerned patients in the recovery wing, Dr. Gentry was left with no choice but to fetch House from whatever he was doing, sleeping or not. He may be their only hope to calming Cameron.

* * *

House sat up on his bunk, while three sailors surrounded him, each with a handful of cards. The smoke that their cigars were creating had quickly filled the room. House, his face still kept straight, eyed the others, mentally noting each of their movements and facial features. He was always great at reading people and could almost immediately tell if they were lying.

"So, what've you got?" House asked, turning to the man next to him. "McDonald?"

The sailor glanced over at him and his eyes looked intently into his. "Two threes."

House nodded and turned to the man across from him. "Sharp?"

He looked up from his hand; his eyes nervously darting everywhere. "Three sixes."

House glanced down at his hand. He had two sixes. "Cheat!"

Sharp sighed, turning his cards down and laying them before the others. Sure enough, his three cards were made up of two fours and a seven.

House smirked and slid his hand past the cards and drew them near him. "Liar, liar, pants on fire..."

He frowned at him. "I didn't lie."

House chuckled. "_Everybody_ lies."

"It wasn't lying," he protested, "I was bluffing."

The man sitting to House's right spoke up. "Bluffing. Verb. To mislead or deceive. To impress, deter, or intimidate by a false display of confidence. Lying: To convey a false image or impression or to present false information with the intention of deceiving." He smiled smugly. "You lied."

"Thanks for the support, Smitty," Sharp snorted sarcastically.

"Anytime, man," he retorted, turning to the crippled cardplayer. "So, Doc, what brings you here?"

_Doc? _he thought, _How original. _

"A woman," he replied, simply, as if that would answer all his questions.

"Ah!" he said, nodding. "Wife got tired of you and left you here to drown, huh?"

He put down his cards. "No, she's my..." he stopped himself short, not sure what to call her.

"Fiancée?" Smitty suggested.

House shook his head. "Nope."

Sharp smiled. "Girlfriend?"

"Nuh-uh."

McDonald grinned. "Just a good friend who makes a great shopping buddy?"

House glared at him. "Hey! I don't swing that way, so stop hitting on me!"

McDonald blushed, trying not to become too embarrassed as his joke bit him back. He wasn't _into_ guys, but it was still embarrassing to be considered that way, for him at least. He laughed it off.

"Sorry, you're not my type, Doc."

"What _is_ your type?"

"Blonde and busty," he replied, looking wistfully.

"We've got one of those in Jersey," House replied, "and he's got fabulous hair. Stop in sometime and I'll introduce you..."

All the soldiers laughed.

"Brunette and booty-licious," Sharp interjected.

House grinned and turned to Smitty. "What about you, Snoopy?"

"It's Smitty," he said, shrugging. "I don't know. I take what I can get."

He smirked. "You're a bottom-feeder, huh? Well, I guess even though there's always more fish in the sea, every sea needs one."

"What's your old lady like?" he probed.

House chuckled to himself in spite of what was said. _Old? Ha! Hardly... _He was about to tell them to mind their own business when he was approached by Dr. Gentry.

"Dr. House?"

He looked over his shoulder at the woman who cautiously walked over to the bunk. "Yeah?"

She looked nervous standing there, twiddling her thumbs, apprehensively. "It's Dr. Cameron..."

He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he grabbed his cane and bolted over to her. "Allison!? What's wrong with her?"

"Well, nothing serious, Dr. House, but she won't stop crying. We've tried everything we can without administrating any sedatives to her. The men can't sleep, she's not loud or anything, it's just...distracting, and we're all worried about her."

He sighed. "So, what do you want me to do about it, Dr. Phil?"

"You could comfort her, reassure her that everything's fine..." she suggested.

A chorus of "Oooooo!" and kissing noises came floating from behind him.

"Hey, Peanut Gallery! Any more of that from you guys and I'll demonstrate the art of nutcracking! Got it?" he threatened, shooting an angry glare at them until they silenced themselves.

He turned back to Dr. Gentry. "Look, Dr. Phil, I don't hold women who cry...I'm the bastard who _gives_ them a _reason_ to cry."

"Please, Dr. House, at least give it a try," she pleaded.

He huffed, letting it morph into a low growl. "Fine."

He limped back to the bunk and pointed to each soldier one by one. "Let's finish this."

They all looked at House, confused.

House pointed to McDonald. "Micky D?"

"Two aces."

Pointing, he turned to Sharp. "You?"

"Four fives."

Lastly, he pointed to Smitty. "And you?"

"Two ones."

He paused, looking at their faces, He then pointed to each of them from left to right. "Cheat...Cheat...Cheat!"

They all looked at him, astonished, before slowly each laying down their hands, revealing that none of them had what they claimed.

"That's a hundred and fifty bucks each," he announced, grinned smugly at them. "I'll collect my winnings when I return."

* * *

Walking into the Recovery Ward, he heard the faint cry and sniffling that was Cameron, coming from across the room.

_Jeez, _he thought, _no wonder these guys can't sleep!_

He shuffled over to her bed to find her face scrunched and tears running from her eyes. She took a tissue from the box she held in her arm and blew her nose.

"How nice," he smirked.

"House?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Trying to be one of those soothing sound machines?"

"What?"

"The nose-blowing sounds like a tugboat. I don't remember there being tugboats and air horns on the ones on the endcap at Wal-Mart, so I'm assuming _that_ was a special request from one of these guys." He looked at Cameron's neighbor. "Missing the booeys in the harbor, soldier?"

He snorted and rolled over.

"House, I'm so sorry," Cameron apologized.

"Why do you do that? Don't apologize to me, Cameron. You weren't keeping _me_ up..."

The thought of being a nuisance to the other men in the room made her cry harder.

House received the pleading looks and groans from the men that were evidently intended to ask Cameron for peace.

"Okay, okay. Shhhhh..." He said, trying to calm her down. "What's with the waterworks, anyway?"

"I'm sorry, House, I'm so scared. I wish we were home."

"I though we had this conversation already," he sighed. "What would you do at home that you can't do here?"

Cameron stopped crying, answering him in a whimper. "I'd be asleep, in my own comfortable bed, with the T.V. on."

He raised a curious brow at her. "Why turn the T.V. on if you aren't watching it?"

"I get lonely and it helps to have the background noise."

"Well, there's no boobtube here, but you've got the relaxing steady beep of your own heart monitor."

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes again. "It's not the same," she whined.

House blew air slowly out of his puffed cheeks. "Okay...well, what do you want me to do about it?"

Cameron thought for a moment and sniffled. "Talk."

"You want to _talk_?"

She shook her head. "No, I want _you _to talk."

He looked around. "To who?"

She shrugged. "Me...noone...I don't care, just talk."

"Just talk..." he said cautiously, in case he misunderstood.

"Just talk," she reassured him.

"About what?"

"Everything, Anything. Tell me a story."

"Do I look like Mother Goose to you?" His snark was rewarded with Cameron's quivering lower lip.

He groaned. "Alright, fine," he said, pulling up a chair.

Clearing his throat, he was surprised to find that he just started spewing out words that simply came to him, as if he'd been a professional storyteller for years.

_"Once Upon a Clinic, there was an evil witch called The Cuddimiester. She was a beast, but a sexy one with quite a nice rack, and she stomped around her kingdom in her man-killing stilettos all day long._

_In a smaller part of her nasty kingdom, there was a cabin where the brilliant chick magnet, also known as Sir McQueen, lived."_

He paused and looked at Cameron in time to see her roll her eyes at him. Deep down inside, he was amused by her reaction, but it was the fact that it was helping her rest that made him feel like he was accomplishing something. He continued after he saw her lay down and start to close her eyes.

_"Sir McQueen was minding his own business one day when The Cuddimiester came up right behind him and attacked him out of nowhere and screamed at him until he agreed to go to the part of the kingdom that was infected with the Black Plague..."_

Cameron only half-heard what he had said, a faint smile forming on her face as sleep overtook her.

_"He spent all day there trying to rid the evil illness from the people when he met Lady Carebear..."_

He watched as Cameron's chest slowly rose and fell as she drifted deeper and deeper asleep.

"_...and then he and Lady Carebear ditched the evil witch and snuck back to his place, making it just in time to see the last half-hour of __Prescription: Passion_ _and they lived almost non-suckily ever after. That is, until one day he made a remark about Lady Carebear being too caring. Then she woke up one morning and realized she didn't want to be with a miserable, old, handicapped grouch anymore, and split, never to been seen or heard from again by Sir McQueen ever again."_

_Wow, h_e sighed._ Even my fairytales suck._

House watched Cameron sleep for a few minutes before fatigue involuntarily overtook him as well.

* * *

_**01:00**_

House was awakened by his leg and persuaded into taking a few Vicodin. He looked over to see Cameron continuing to sleep as peacefully as anyone could in her emotional state. He leaned over Cameron's bed and grabbed her medical file from the end of the bed, flipping through it. Her vitals seemed normal, and they had her on about the same meds he would've recommended.

"She seems to be doing better since you came back in," said Dr. Gentry, walking up from behind him.

He looked to her and nodded before turning back to her chart.

'She's still tossing and turning. Can you put her on some more pain relievers?"

She shook her head. "We don't want to mask the symptoms of her pain, and if we relieve the pain, we won't know how serious it is."

"Really? Cuz the way I remember it, if you get rid of the pain, you get _rid _of the _pain_! No pain ergo no problem," he snapped.

She nodded.

He skimmed through her basic information. He knew the usual things, her name, her birthdate, her blood type, the simple things, so he skipped down the form and stopped suddenly at Emergency Information. He swallowed hard as he read through the info Cameron had given the doctor earlier.

I, Allison Cameron, appoint the following as my Power of Attorney in the event that I am unable to make objective medical decisions for myself. Scrawled below another highly detailed will-like written paragraph, he found the name of the decision maker.

_**Dr. Gregory House, M.D.**_

* * *

Because Hugh Laurie is so fine, I've taken him out of a bathtub and placed him in an equally sexy environment. He's now tied to a bed in a fantasy suite. Unfortunately, all of the doors look alike from the hallway. Now if I could only remember which Suite it was...

Opens the first door... (AHHHHHHHH! People scream.)

"Whoops!" Blushing "Sorry about that!"

"Well, it wasn't _that _one..."


	28. Lookin 4 a lil Spot of Sumthin 2 Cling 2

Chapter 26

_**Lookin' For A Little Spot of Something To Cling To...**_

House's heart raced in his chest. "_**I'm **_Cameron's medical proxy?"

"You didn't know?" she asked, not bothering to try and hide her surprise.

"Since when?" he asked, ignoring her last question. Sure, it had been more of a rhetorical question, but he did want _someone _to be able to answer it for him.

Thankfully, Dr. Gentry was more than accommodating.

"You may want to take a look at the medical papers she brought with her. They're behind the notes we added. I do believe the date was specified."

He flipped to the back of the clipboard and skimmed through the papers until he found the date.

"Holy..." he said, falling back into the chair he had been sleeping in.

_Wow_, he thought, _she's had me listed for almost a year and a half! She never told me. Why didn't she ever tell me? And why me?_

Dr. Gentry placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Dr. House, you should get some sleep, sir. Dr. Cameron's going to want to see you when she wakes up, I'm sure."

He looked at her, still in shock from the news of having control over Cameron's life or death choice if it ever became necessary.

"Would _you _choose me to determine whether you live or die?"

She snorted.

"No offense, Dr. House, but you and I both know that you _**really**_ have to have faith in a person to entrust them with a major decision like _that_. Personally, I trust you as far as I can throw you, and that isn't far!"

House smirked.

"Believe me, the feeling's mutual."

Dr. Gentry smiled.

"She must really believe in you, Dr. House. I'd hold onto her, if I were you," she said, exiting the room with a wink.

A tidal wave of lesbian jokes crashed over House, tempting him to crack a few, but he refrained, deciding he was too tired to talk.

All he wanted now, was a good hour or two of unconsciousness, for both him and Cameron, who whimpered from the bed, grimacing in pain. Standing from his chair, he discreetly kissed her forehead before sauntering off, like a zombie, back to the crew's living quarters.

* * *

_Cameron squinted at the blinding sun as she followed House off of the large ship and back to walking the empty city of New Orleans. They silently strolled down the vacant streets, taking in all of the damage that the hurricane had caused, forcing so many people to evacuate. It was all still there; cars with busted windows and without drivers, littered pavement, trash everywhere..._

_After passing a half-damaged building, something caught her eye, drawing her to the middle of the large mountain of rubble that used to claim to be the other half. Light reflected from something sticking out from it._

"_What's that?" Cameron asked, pointing to the debris._

"_That is the remains of what looks, to me, like it used to be a travel agency. Ironic, huh?" he snorted. "Next time, I pick the destination and you can pick out something sexy to wear..."_

_She rolled her eyes, before narrowing them, trying to see the shiny metal object clearer. _

"_No, there's something shining from it..."_

_House scoffed at her as she walked up closer to investigate it. _

"_What is it with girls and shiny things? Would you be half as more interested in a toilet if it were gold plated? It's probably just a stupid little...CAMERON!"_

_Cameron's head shot back towards him to see what startled him. She looked all around him, trying to seek out his concern, when she realized he was looking at her._

_Before either one of them had a chance to react, the entire mound of broken glass, rock, and busted wooden beams shifted. Emerging from it was a dirty, bruised and bloodied homeless man, heading straight for Cameron with the shiny object in hand._

_Unaware of what was happening behind her, she still sensed that something was wrong. She had just commanded herself to stop what she was doing and turn around to take a look, when she was roughly stopped in her tracks._

_Cameron screamed at the top of her lungs as a smooth-edged, razor sharp, stainless steel dagger was forcefully buried into her side. The man quickly retracted the blood-coated blade from her flank, only to further injure House as well by sending it slicing across his throat, penetrating his jugular vein. He grabbed his neck tightly, trying to keep the blood from escaping as it fought it's way through, oozing between his tightly squeezed fingers, and fell to the ground._

"_House!" Cameron screamed, her voice catching as the discovery of pain when she used her diaphragm. Clutching her bleeding side, she ran over to him and kneeled down beside him, not bothering to watch as the homeless man ran off with nothing more than he had before._

"_Greg, stay with me," she sobbed, staring into his eyes while brushing his hair back from his forehead. His eyes joined hers in a rare moment, flooded with raw emotions from both parties._

_Opening his mouth, he tried to say something, but she placed her fingers over his lips and stopped him._

"_No, don't try to speak," she said, knowing he'd need his strength if he was going to pull through this, or at least try to._

_As usual, House ignored her warning and tried to get out her name, before choking on the last syllable._

"_Allis-uhhnnn..."_

_Cameron gasped as House coughed hard, a pool of blood congregated from his throat and trickled down the side of his mouth, streaming down onto his already blood-stained hand._

"_Greg?" she yelped, her eyes misting over with angry tears. "Gregory House, don't you dare leave me here by myself! I can't do this alone! I need you to be here to put me down, make fun of me. You should be calling me pathetic right now for caring too much..."_

_House tried to smile, but could only form half of one._

_As he felt that his time was almost up, he pushed his cracked voice as far as it would go, which was to the decibel of a whisper, and spoke his last words through a gasping breath._

"_...love...yo-...Alli-son..."_

_Tears poured down Cameron's face as she held House's head up with her shaky hands, until his lungs deflated and his beating heart halted to a gut wrenching stop._

"_Greg? Greg! Greg, please don't leave..." she pleaded, her body shaking as she cried, causing her side to ache more, doubling the production of tears. She set House's head down carefully, his electrifying blue eyes still staring soullessly into hers. She found it excruciatingly difficult to bring herself to do it, but she forced herself to run her fingers down his face, closing his eyes along the way. _

_That man had no reason to hurt either one of them; he simply attacked them because he could. _

_Cameron squeezed her damp eyes shut tightly and was startled by the sight she saw in front of her when she opened them..._

* * *

_**01:45**_

Normally, House was able to fall deeply asleep, no matter where he was. He claimed this remarkable ability came from the practice he got in Exam Room Three in the early mornings Cuddy was searching for him, but tonight, his mind was absolutely racing, keeping him from getting even a moment's worth of peace. Thought after thought, idea following idea bombarded him, between trying to figure out how to get home and wondering how Cameron was doing.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to depress his mental activity. His leg throbbed, reminding him that he was long overdue for a narcotic fix. Pulling out his still-very supplied bottle of Vicodin, he shook a couple into his hand and stared at them, taking a moment to awe, once more, over the realization that he'd been taking less and less during the time he's spent on this trip.

A soldier ran into the room, shaking House from his thoughts, and found one of the higher ranking officers, rushing to relay important news to him. Being the curious and must-know-all sort of man that he was, he turned his ear in their direction and tried to decipher their conversation, only succeeding to make out certain words.

"...civilian woman...hostage...EDP…"

The superior officer's eyes widened at the news before he flew down the corridor the younger soldier had just ran through, his face full of worry. His subordinate quickly followed.

House quickly analyzed the situation, the possibilities twisting his gut; wringing it like a towel being drained of water. This was possibly the only time he would ever be thankful that his military, punishment-loving father drove him to learn the codes that law enforcement officers often used.

_EDP?_, he thought back, trying to remember the words belonging to the anagram. He swallowed hard and felt his heart drop into his stomach as the right words came to mind.

_Emotionally Disturbed Person._

Something was definitely wrong, and by the sound of it, someone was being held hostage. No, not just someone. A woman. A civilian woman.

"Cameron…!" House exclaimed, throwing the pills down his throat and swallowing them, shooting up out of the lower bunk faster than any person, physically disabled or not, should possibly be allowed to.

He grabbed his cane and headed quickly back to the recovery ward, violently pushing through the sea of soldiers that lined the hallway, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

"Cameron!" he yelled at the blocked door, occasionally barking a rude "Move!" here and a "Outta the way!" there at random soldiers. Finding that he was getting nowhere, he gripped his cane tightly and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"A-tten-tion!"

The mob of soldiers parted like the Red Sea and saluted in confusion, only to find House standing in the middle of them all, his cane gripped as he were Moses with a staff. Before they could recover and take in what just happened, House had hobbled past all of them and slowly pushed through the waiter-like swing door.

The sight before him was something he really hadn't been ready for...

* * *

_Cameron opened her eyes to find the homeless man was back, holding his dagger to her hand, ready to slice into her wrist. She screamed, causing him to stumble backwards, dropping the knife. Quickly grabbing it from the ground, she pointing it at him until he nervously held his arms up in surrender._

"_Look, if I could just have that back..." he said gesturing to the dagger in her hand, attempting to get it back._

"_Don't you __**dare**__ come __**any **__closer!"_ _Cameron yelled, her vision clouded by tears._

* * *

"Don't you _dare_ come any closer!"

House froze in his tracks, stunned by the scene unfolding in front of him.

All of the beds that had once surrounded Cameron's bed were now pushed to the end of the room. In the opposite corner of the room stood a man in a white medical lab coat.

House's eyes narrowed in confusion. _What the...?_

He glanced around the room to find Cameron, kneeling in the corner; crying hysterically. Immediately assuming he'd hurt her, he clutched his cane in his fist, enraged, and started for the man, but stopped short when the reality of the situation hit him. The man stood before her with his arms raised in surrender. House searched Cameron with his eyes and found a syringe clenched tightly in her fist.

Like a slap in the face, it dawned on him...

Cameron wasn't being held as a hostage; she was taking them!

* * *

_The scraggly man held out his hand for the knife. "Just, hand over the knife..."_

"_Why? So you can kill me?"_

"_What?" he asked, "I'm not going to kill you..."_

"_Just like you didn't kill him?" she said, pointing to House's lifeless, blood-soaked body behind her._

* * *

House watched uncomfortably as Cameron argued with the man, pointing behind her, at the wall.

"Who?" he exclaimed. "There's no one there!"

A naval officer approached House at his side, but spoke to the doctor being held captive. "What, in the name of all that is holy, is going on here, Richardson?"

Dr. Richardson kept his eyes on Cameron to make sure she didn't try to attack him, but answered his commanding officer.

"I didn't kill anyone!"

* * *

"_You have no idea who you've killed!" Cameron screamed between sobs._

"_No, I don't," he agreed, "Tell me..."_

_Her facial expression turned from sorrowful to angry. "You don't deserve to know, but I'll tell you, so that the guilt of ending such a precious life, will haunt you for the rest of yours!"_

_He nodded and listened to her._

"_He was everything to me," she confessed. As she spoke of him, tears flooded her eyes again as she mentally flipped through all of the memories she had of him._

* * *

"He's a wonderful man..." she told him.

_Oh, great_, House thought. _She thinks he killed her dead husband...this is not going to end well._

"...and a really beautiful person..." Cameron continued.

_Okay...maybe she's talking about Chase..._

"...and a brilliant doctor!"

_Well, there went that theory..._

"He cares _so _much about his patients..."

_Hmm...I didn't know Cameron had a thing for Wilson..._

"...sometimes so deeply that he does extreme and outlandish things to help and save them!" She shook her head in disbelief of the whole situation and shook the needle at him.

"You killed the one man that I love more than I have loved _anyone _in my entire life, and now, thanks to you, I've got nothing to live for anymore!"

* * *

"_I'm sorry...can I please have that back now?" he asked, trying to coax the dagger from her._

"_Not until you tell me why!"_

"_Why what?" demanded the man._

"_So, what? You stab and kill people first, then ask questions later?" she demanded. "I don't think so! I'm keeping it until you tell me why!"_

"_Why. I. Did. What?" he exclaimed, punctuating every word he said._

"_Why did you stab me and kill him?"_

"_Kill who?" _

* * *

House stepped a little closer, ignoring the officer's warning and stopped a few feet away from them.

"Cameron?"

He was pretty sure she heard him, but she continued to hold her defensive stance toward the man, so he tried again.

"Allison?"

* * *

_Cameron's lower lip quivered as she thought she heard House's voice calling out to her, but she knew it was impossible._

"_Allison?"_

_Cameron hesitated and slowly turned her head towards the voice. There, standing next to her, was House, his clothes still stained in blood. Her jaw dropped, along with her anger, and her tears momentarily halted at the sight of him._

"_Greg?" she squeaked._

* * *

House nodded.

She shook her head, her body shaking. "No! You can't be!"

Shocked by her response, he nodded and replied, "Why, do I have boobs like Cuddy? _Am _I Cuddy?"

"No, you're...you're..." she stuttered.

"A hundred times hotter than Chase and double that better in bed..." he suggested, ignoring the odd looks from the other people in the room that Cameron was evidently unable to see.

"Sarcastic bastard..." she mumbled, only slightly loud enough for him to hear her. "Wait...you're not here! I'm talking to a ghost...," she reasoned with herself, her hand to her head as it throbbed in pain.

"What?" he looked at her incredulously. "Ghost?"

The Colonel leaned over to House, not taking his eyes from Cameron. "Are you?"

House fought to resist the urge to hit him with his cane, knowing it would only damage the few brain cells this man may have had in the first place, and turned to him, snarking sarcastically, "Not the last time I checked…"

"We'll check again," Cameron insisted. "I _watched_ you die!"

_Die, _he thought, _so all of those things she said before...were about me?_

"Well if I'm a ghost, I got screwed royally! I hope there's a twenty-four hour pharmacy that stocks Vicodin in Purgatory, because the leg still hurts like the place downstairs."

She stared at him, wondering whether or not to believe him.

"I assure you, Cameron, I'm still very much alive. I've got my own pulse and everything," he quipped.

She watched him apprehensively. "Prove it..."

He shrugged. "How?"

She thought for a moment. "Let me feel it."

He nodded and slowly treaded lightly over to her and whispered in her ear.

"Which point would you like to test it from?" he asked grinning and waggling his eyebrows, suggestively.

Cameron blushed and sniffled, reaching out her free hand to test his pulse. Upon first touching his skin, she retracted her hand like she'd been burnt, but not before she noticed that it was, indeed, warm, not cold like she expected. He kept his hand outstretched, waiting for her to try again.

Gulping, she wrapped her fingers over his wrist and held his wrist and found a strong, beating rhythm emerging from underneath. "How can this be?" she asked herself, shaking her head, not sure what to believe anymore. She slowly looked up at him, searching his eyes through her glazed over ones.

"Greg? Is it really you?" she asked, almost pleading.

House nodded.

Dropping the syringe to the floor, she threw her arms around his waist and cried into his chest. Caught off guard, he fell back slightly, but quickly regained his footing and wrapped his arms around Cameron, uncomfortable by the audience in the room.

Dr. Richardson picked up the needle from the floor and crept away from Cameron and out of the room to recover from the frightening encounter.

Cameron gripped House tighter, afraid to loose him again.

"I thought," she sobbed, "I thought I lost you!"

He held her close, reassuring her of his existence. "No, you can't get rid of Gregory House _that_ easily!"

Cameron chuckled between sobs and let out a small sad smile.

* * *

_Trailing her eyes up to his face from his chest, she noticed a dark line, slowly forming across his neck. She took a step back, still staring right below his chin with confused eyes._

* * *

House frown deepened. "What? What is it?"

* * *

_Cameron lifted a finger, hesitantly moving to run her finger over the mark. "Your neck…"_

* * *

"My neck?" he parroted, his hand flying up to cup his neck. While feeling around, he was surprised to feel Cameron's cold, clammy hands covered his forcefully, squeezing more tightly than a woman her size normally could. He quickly found his oxygen supply depleting, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat, throbbing against her palms.

* * *

_Cameron held her hands as tightly as she could around House's neck as the blood trickled down it once again._

"_No!" she cried, begging the bleeding to stop. She couldn't loose him again. Not again, not ever._

* * *

"Cam-" he gasped, trying to push her off of him. "Allie…stop!"

* * *

**_Oooh...Cliffhanger! Sorry, lol. Hey, review the chapter and tell me what you think. To be honest, I'm kinda proud of this chapter, but that's just me. Was it as suspenseful reading it as I thought it was while I was writing it? Please leave me your thoughts! P.S. Sorry if it was confusing, but to clarify, the italics are how Cameron perceives the situation in her delusional state. And now, back to finding Hugh..._**

**_Opening another random door_**

**_The room was pleasantly decorated in an Under the Sea theme. Glancing around, I was sorely disappointing at not find Hugh in there...Drat!_**

**_Well, on to the next one, I suppose..._**


	29. There's Too Many Bodies, Not Enough Room

A/N: Sorry for the delay...here's Chapter 27! XD

* * *

Chapter 27

_**There's Too Many Bodies, Not Enough Room...**_

"Greg, stay with me!"

"Cameron!" House hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing her hands, desperately trying to pry them from being constricted around his neck. "Cam..ron...let...GO!" he grunted, his body swaying from a mixture of his cane less, unbalanced stance and a bout of vertigo.

"No, you can't leave me here on my own. We have...to get...the bleeding...to stop!"

"What?" he inquired, his face turning a deep red, then into a darker blue-ish purple color. "Cameron! Can't breathe!"

Cameron let out a sharp cry and her expression fell from hysterically worried to a helpless hurt.

House gasped for air, filling his lungs as quickly as he could. He felt her grip loosen dramatically as her body slouched to the floor, revealing Dr. Richardson, holding the needle Cameron had mistaken as a dagger earlier, in his closed fist.

Before House could nod, sadly yet thankfully, his vision dimmed, until everything went pitch black.

* * *

_What the heck is that smell?_

House's face scrunched in disgust as if he'd come in contact with curdled milk. The scent was strong, burning his throat as it hung before his face in a giant, grotesque cloud.

Not being able to tolerate it any longer, House reluctantly opened his eyes to find his fellow poker posse surrounding him; McDonald sitting at at his right, holding open a jar of what stunk like industrial floor cleaner, underneath House's nose.

Ammonia.

"What are you trying to do, get me higher?" he snapped, pushing it away from his face.

Sharp chuckled. "Are you suggesting that you were high to begin with?"

Feeling the beginning of a headache coming on, House reached into his pocket and pulled out his Vicodin, downing a couple.

"Only when I'm properly medicated." Swallowing, he turned to Smitty.  
"How long was I out?"

"Not too long...maybe thirty seconds, give or take a couple," he replied.

He nodded. Remembering Cameron and how her body simply slumped to the floor, he felt a pang of anger hit him. "What the heck did he do to her?"

The three men looked at each other, taken aback by House's angry, misguided blame at the innocent doctor, then lowering thier eyes to the floor, too nervous to look him in the eye with an answer.

"She's...uh..." started Smith.

"Well...last I heard, they...um..." tried Sharp.

McDonald stammered hesitantly when the attention turned to him. "See, the thing about her is..."

House rolled his eyes. "First one to speak up with the right answer will be granted immunity from the wrath of my cane."

All three sets of eyes widened in shock as thier brains scurried to put together a sentance, resulting in them all stammering at once. Carefully, House listened to each one and was able to pick out important phrases to put together.

"Dr. Richardson was behind her..." rambled Sharp.

"...sedated...calm down..." added Smitty.

"...and she's back in the Recovery Ward," said McDonald, pointing to the doors across the hall. Before then, House hadn't noticed that he'd been pulled out into the hallway for the better oxygen flow, but he quickly picked up that they were leaving something out.

Something was being left unsaid. But what?

McDonald stared at the floor apprehensively while the stench of guilt thickly engulfed the occupants of the room. "And?" he demanded.

McDonald's eyes slowly trailed up to House's, apologizing into them before dropping once more.

"They had to...restrain her," he confessed sadly.

* * *

Cameron awoke in the bed she fell asleep in; disappointed to find that she was alone, once more.

Mentally, she was no longer tired, so going back to sleep was out of the question. Physically, however, her body felt exhausted; like how she felt the day she started Tae Bo and skipped to the advanced DVD instead of working her way through the beginner and novice ones.

Yawning, she went to lift her hand to cover her mouth, when something caught her wrist and stopped it's journey halfway to her mouth.

It felt like something was weighing them down. No, more like pulling them down.

Glancing below her arm, she was startled to find a chain leading from the bedpost to the cuff wrapped around her wrist.

Restraints.

_No, no, no, no, no! _Cameron thought to herself, shaking her head. _Why am I being restrained? What did they do to me? What are they going to do?_

The feeling of not being able to move her limbs, the strange location, and being unaware of what was going on, frightened her. Cameron's monitor picked up as her pulse speed increased and her respiratory rate skyrocketed, sending Cameron into a panic attack.

Nurses, along with Dr. Gentry, ran into the ward, making a bee-line for Cameron's bed, trying thier best to calm her down.

Despite the comotion, a loud angry yell was heard, echoing in from the hall.

"You WHAT?!"

_That voice!_ Cameron mentally exclaimed, _I know that voice... Is it House? Yes, it's got to be House!_

Cameron's attempted yell for House transformed into a piercing scream from a needle, biting her right in the upper arm.

* * *

"You WHAT?!" House roared angrily.

"We're sorry, Doc, but we had no other choice. The commander was worried about the safety of the men onboard," said Smitty, trying to explain.

"No choice? There's ALWAYS another choice!"

"Yeah, it was retrain her or let her kill you. Next time, we'll be on stand by with your coffin ready."

"You expect me to believe that all of the men on this ship are afraid of a little girl?"

"She was choking you!"

He snorted in self-pity. "Who wouldn't, jump at the chance to do that to me, at the drop of a hat?"

"She _strangled_ you _**unconscious**_, Doc!"

"I like it rough," he replied, straightfaced.

"I, for one, am terrified!"

"Terrified of what? She's half your weight, height, and testosterone level!"

"Admit it, a couple more seconds and you woulda been sleepin' with the fishes!" McDonald piped up.

"She's a closet dominatrix...I like to be roughhoused by my women," he lied.

The guys rolled their eyes at him. "Right," they said, sarcastically,

"Let me tell you something," he growled, pointing them generally all in the face, "One Allison Cameron is worth more than every man on this ship put together-INCLUDING me and if it came down it, I'd risk my life, along with anyone else's, for hers!"

He paused and waited for acknowledgment before continuing. "And, another thing, Cameron's CARES. She's the Queen of Hearts, with her fluffy, never ending niceness and generosity. She'd take O.J. off the street, even if she knew he did it, and treat him so well, he'd think he died and went to The Ritz Carlton upstairs! "

Sharp cocked his head to the side in confusion. "There's no hotel upstairs...only the flight deck..."

"Do you listen to yourself when you speak?" asked House, looking at him in utter disbelief. "You related to anyone blond and British?"

"Uh, no. Why?" he asked.

"Because you're the village idiot here, and I wanted to ask you if there's some secret Village Idiot Convention that you might've met our local idiot at."

"If there was, you sure as heck wouldn't be allowed in!" his bantering rival said, replayed his last jest back in his head, leaving him confused and embarrassed.

"You also have no poker face which is why you suck so horribly at cards and probably life, as well. When they decide to send you to war, they'll throw you a cap gun and send you to the front lines, in the hopes that you'll be offed first."

"I can see why no one hangs out with you," he replied, lamely.

House ignored his comment and turned deadly serious on them again.

"If _**anything**_ happens to her-" House warned them.

House's heart-felt speech was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream from the Recovery Ward, and no one had to tell him it was Cameron.

He just knew.

Glaring at the guys, he walked through the door and watched as nurse after nurse attempted to calm Cameron down. With tears running down her cheeks, her head fell against the back of her bed and her body went limp. House walked over to Cameron as the nurses walked away from her, as if there were nothing else they could do for her.

Picking up her chart, he noticed it had been documented that she'd been easily awakened; tossing and turning, due to nightmares throughout the night. They had started _before_ she had the hallucinations and tried to choke him.

He laid it down and stepped toward the railing of her bed. He looked down at her, expecting her to say something caring and pitiful.

Cameron looked up at House with glassy eyes and choked out, "Oh, no!"

His eyes went wide. "What?"

Sobbing, Cameron replied. "I'm in hell, aren't I?"

It took a lot to shock Greg House, but he couldn't deny that her last statement was a stunner. He exaggeratingly looked around. "Huh...it is a little stuffy in here, but it sure doesn't look like the clinic..."

She groaned between burst of tears. "I am! Why else would you be here?"

"Nice to know how you really feel about me, Cameron," he quipped, trying hard to hide his slight grin from her.

She stopped crying. "I'm...I'm not...dead?"

"You sound...disappointed. Sorry to burst your bubble, but no, you're still very much alive. You were close, but no cigar," he said, shaking his head.

She nodded, before saying something that surprised him, once more.

"Go away."

_Okay, I wasn't expecting that! _he thought.

"No," he replied.

"Please?" she asked, practically begging.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"You haven't given me any incentive to, even begin to consider, leaving."

"If you stay, they'll see you caring," she snorted. "Wouldn't want to damage your reputation as an insensitive bastard..."

He shrugged. "No one here knows me. It's the people I see everyday, that I steer emotionally clear from. See, if Cuddy or the nurses saw me care, they wouldn't be afraid or offended by me anymore, and that just won't do, because they'd think that, deep down, I'm just a big, fluffy, sarcastic puppy with a drug addiction. Then they'd scold me whenever I'm offensive towards patients, reminding me that they have proof that I cared about someone once and that I should be worried about everyone else, too."

"Heaven forbid," she sniffled. "What about me? We work together..."

He snapped his fingers. "Drat. Well, I guess I'm just going to have to blackmail you to keep your mouth shut."

"You could always bribe me," she suggested, not really interested in the conversation.

He shook his head. "No, then there wouldn't be anything, guaranteed, in it for me."

"Of course, what was I thinking? It's all about you. It's ALWAYS about you, House," she snapped. "Hmm, must be the drugs."

"Or it's just your monthly friend talking. Either way, you're hot when you're angry."

"Go. Away. House!" she said, raising her voice, slightly more irritated than before.

"And, I'll ask you again, why?"

Cameron turned away from him. "Funny, normally when people tell you to get lost, it's because you're being an a-hole. Could I be asking you to leave now, possibly for the fact that, you're acting like an a-hole?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Normally, I'm not _strangled_ by the people who tell me to leave. Sure, they may _want _to, but being needed to treat their loved ones usually keeps them from acting on those pesky impulsive thoughts. I think you owe me an explanation, at the very _least_, seeing as how you tried to kill me..."

Cameron's waterworks turned back on. "_Save_ you," she corrected him.

House turned his head, cupping his hand over his ear, making it closer to her mouth. "Excuse me?"

"I was trying to _save_ you!" she repeated.

"From what, the evils of oxygen?" he joked.

"No!" she exclaimed, breaking back down into tears. "Just go," she pleaded with him again, "leave me alone."

"Not until you tell me why."

Defeated, Cameron came clean. "Because every time I look at you, you're perfect. You stand in front of me, in all your glory with your gorgeous blue eyes, but then..." she sniffled, "then your throat gets sliced again and I can't save you from bleeding out!"

_I died? Why does everyone want to kill me? _he wondered in amazement. "Sliced?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "by that stupid homeless guy."

House switched all of his weight to his left leg and leaned onto her bed railing. "What guy?"

Cameron stared into space. "I should've never walked over to that building...I'm _never_ going near another shiny object ever again!"

Beyond confused and slightly amused, House swallowed a small chuckle and prodded her for more information. "What did he look like?"

"You saw him! You were there! But I had him right where I wanted him-under the fear of his own knife. And I yelled at him, _screamed_at him, for killing you. If I had known you were going to haunt me for saving you, I woulda let you bleed."

"So, now that I'm alive, I'm no good, so you want me to leave, is that it?"

She scoffed. "Yeah, I'm tired of saving you from dying, so leave," she said, hoping he'd give up the conversation.

"Are you implying that I'm not worth saving more than..." House counted on his fingers, "once?"

She shrugged. "Why bother? You can't die. You're invincible; like Johnny Knoxville."

"But, WAY hotter!" he chimed in, grinning. "Now, I'm sorry, but it's hard for me to be thankful when, in all actuality, you tried to squeeze my windpipe shut," he said, feigning that he was hurt.

She shook her head. "I tried to keep you alive and you _still_ find a way to torture me with it."

Seeing that she wasn't in a joking mood, he turned serious. "Cameron, no one's immortal; not even me. I've been close to death several times, and I was just as freaked out each time. When my nine lives are up, I _will _die. Everyone dies, it's the one thing besides taxes and being screwed over, that you can always count on out of this sucky think called life."

"Not everyone's life is horrible, House."

"Yeah?" he asked, raising a challenging brow at her. "Name **one** person whose life doesn't make them feel like committing Harry Carry..."

Cameron thought for a moment. "Donald Trump."

House scrunched, grossed out by the image of the man. "Combover. A bad one that would send _anyone_ over the edge."

"Smiling Bob."

House stifled a laugh. "The Enzyte guy?"

Cameron smiled at his surprise at her unbelievable choice. "What? The man smiles and gets laid all day. Why would he want to die?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Have you seen his "happy partner"? She's as ugly as you are beautiful."

Cameron laughed, earning a reactive smile from House from it.

"Just so there's no confusion, she's hideous looking."

Cameron smiled at his camoflauged compliment.

"Terrifiing, actually. She'd shoot any man's horse. I practically scream when she pops up, in the commercial."

"But he smiles!" she said, playfully defending him.

He snorted. "Well, yeah, but that's from the Botox injections he gets to keep it plastered on his face. That way, she thinks he's happy, but really, he's absolutely miserable."

"If he's so miserable, why are they together then?"

He shrugged. "Who knows. Look at Wilson and his newest soon-to-be ex-wife, Julie. I haven't the slightest clue why they got together in the first place, and yet, he still goes home everynight to get yelled at and accused of cheating on her with that new nurse in Radiology."

Cameron squinted in thought. "Just because Wilson's had more than his fair share of bad marriages, it doesn't make him a manwhore."

"No, sleeping with other women while being married to neruotic and crazy ones, makes him a man whore."

"Okay, well..." Cameron thought. "Me."

"What?"

"My life," she repeated.

"You're miserable," he insisted.

"No I'm not. Why would you say that?"

"Look around, Cameron. You're not happy."

"Well," she said, looking down to her arm, raising it as far as it would go before stopping, "no, not here. Not like this, but that doesn't mean I'm-"

He shook his head. "You're miserable," he restated.

She sighed. "Not enough to kill myself."

He looked at her, feeling a pang of pity for her, lying there so helplessly.

"Maybe other people, but never myself..." she added, jokingly.

He smirked at her. "Well, congratulations, because you almost took out your attending's subordinate."

Cameron's eyes widened in shocking disbelief. "What? You're kidding me..."

A slight chuckle escaped. "In the event that you were to go up against someone trying to kill me again, I'd bet my money on you."

She raised a brow at him. "I don't know if anyone filled you in on the score of the things but, I lost."

He shrugged. "He cheated."

She blushed, grinning slightly as she swung her confined wrist up, trying to cup his face. It fell rapidly into a frown as it was yanked back down before it came into contact with the soft skin of his cheek, guarded with prickly stubble.

He noticed the fall of her happiness and understood it was the lack of freedom she had, being chained to her bed. He cleared his throat. "I'll see what I can do about getting those taken off," he promised her. "Get some sleep; we've got a big day ahead of us once they discharge you."

She nodded and watched as he solemnly walked from her bedside and out into the hallway, before drifting into unconsciousness.

* * *

_**02:25**_

House had shuffled back to the sleeping quarters.

The men that had failed to explain to him Cameron's "tied down" condition were at his bunk once again, waiting for him to show back up.

"She okay?"

"How is she?"

"Are you alright?"

Their questions irritated him, but deep inside, he appreciated the concern, even if it felt fake as they were part of the enemy that had strapped her down in the first place.

"She's fine," he replied, not wanting to talk about her.

They nodded and retreated from his bunk, telling themselves that he needed to sleep.

House dropped his cane on the floor next to him and laid down on the top of the perfectly made bed.

Staring up at the bars that held the mattress up for the top bunk, he couldn't help but wonder if getting home was going to be easy or harder than they could imagine.

Closing his eyes, his thoughts dissolved away, leaving him to listen to his own breathing before letting sleep take over.

* * *

_**07:30**_

"Blood pressure is normal; 106 over 55, heart rate is 86, current temperature is 97.4," said Dr. Gentry relaying Cameron's vitals to her assisting nurse.

"Good morning, Dr. Cameron," she said, smiling at her when she noticed she's awaken.

Cameron returned her smile with her own one, weak, but existent.

"We're going to give you a once over, then see about getting you freed from these," she said, tugging on one of her leather bindings.

She pulled out a pen light and shined it into Cameron's eyes. "How are you feeling this morning? Any aches or pains?"

"My neck feels a little stiff," she replied.

Dr. Gentry nodded. "Yes. My colleague was left with no choice but to sedate you, but he feels just awful about it."

Cameron's gaze lowered in embarassment and guilt. "I'm sorry. I must've been quite a hassle."

She laughed. "Well, I'd never fight you, that's for sure. You're pretty tough, there!" She turned to a young woman who approached the bed next to her. "This is Dr. Edwards, she's our ship's resident Psychologist. If you don't mind, do you think you could tell us why you attacked your companion after threatening Dr. Richardson?"

Staring at the wall, she remembered the hallucination like a vivid dream she'd momentarily woken up from. Shaking her head, she explained everything to them; from the the homeless man with the dagger in the street, to the the slicing of House's neck and the grasping of his neck to prevent him from bleeding to death.

Dr. Edwards nodded. "Dr. Cameron, are you and Dr. House intimate?"

Cameron was stunned by her blunt question and taken completely off-guard. "I'm sorry?"

She smiled at her. "Are you and Dr. House currently or previously been in a relationship?"

_I wish! _Cameron thought, nodding her head, hoping that her blush was invisible. "Uh, no."

"Are there any feelings between the two of you?" she prodded.

_Feelings? What's she trying to get at? _"What!? I-I-I don't think-" she stuttered.

The women smiled at her. "It's alright, Dr. Cameron. Some scientists believe that hallucinations are based around the person's fears. From personally decoding the one you had, it seems to be based on the uncomfortable worry of being in an unfamiliar place, and the fear of loosing someone who's both familiar and close. You thought you were loosing him so you did what you could to keep him from dying."

Cameron nodded.

"Although," she said, grinning slightly mischeviously, "the fact that you called Dr. House by his first name, seems to indicate a more intimate level of emotions directed towards him, specifically."

Cameron blushed, yet said nothing, not trusting herself to keep from saying something incriminating.

"Well, anyway, you seem to be aware of your surroundings, and your vitals are looking good. I'm willing to be that they'll let you go in no time at all." She turned to Dr. Gentry. "The restraints can be dropped."

Dr. Gentry nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Edwards."

"You're welcome," she said, turning to Cameron. After Dr. Gentry released Cameron from the shackles that held her, Dr. Edwards reached out and shook Cameron's hand. "Thank you, Dr. Cameron. I wish you the best of luck in the future."

Cameron released her hand and thanked her.

"Well, Allison, I'm giving you a clean bill of health. If you'd like to get dressed, they'll be serving breakfast in a few moments. I'll go get your discharge papers filled out and hand them over to you."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her wrists where she'd been tied as the doctor walked out of the room. Grabbing her bag, she padded into the bathroom to change into clothes that made her feel like a civilian again, instead of a patient.

* * *

A shake to the shoulder yanked House from his measly five hours of sleep. He growled, knowing full well that he hadn't gotten his usual eight to nine hours by his new level of tiredness.

"Hey, Doc?"

He opened one eye to find Smitty standing nervously over him. "Do you always wake people so they run on a severe lack of sleep? Think of what I went through today?"

"I was told to let you know that Dr. Cameron's being discharged, after breakfast, this morning."

"It's about time, he grumbled, throwing his legs over the bunk. "Well, since you already rudely woke me up, I might as well get up and eat."

Wincing in pain, he popped a couple of pills and grabbed up his cane, standing to follow Smitty.

"What's for breakfast?"

Smitty thought for a moment. "Uh...eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes and hash browns, I think."

House let out a small half-smile. "I love the Navy!."

Smitty led House to the kitchen. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"The food," he replied, grinning.

* * *

Pushing open the last door on the left, the muffled sounds of someone yelling were heard.

Peaking my head in, I find Hugh sitting on the bed, tied up, unable to move.

A mischievous grin graces my face as I slowly shut the door.

"What's the magic word?" I taunted him.

He mumbles something intelligable.

Removing the gag, I grinned at him. "What was that?"

He gulped, helplessly. "_**Review**_?"

(You heard the man, ladies and gentleman! Please share your thoughts!)

* * *


	30. God Help Me and God Help You

Disclaimer: Do I have to remind you that I don't own them? It hurts my feelings...

A/N: Sorry for how long it took me to update. Life butted in and sidetracked me. Here's Chapter 28, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

**_ God Help Me and God Help You…_**

Cameron was given breakfast pretty early. The plateful of food that was laid out on a picture perfect plate, one usually used for menu to show an example of the food you'll order, but never receive the quality it in.

Removing the clean fork from the napkin-wrapped utensil set, she stabbed the patch of shredded potatoes and broke off a piece of try. She lifted the fork to her mouth, and while reassuring herself that it would be as tasteful as it looked and smelled.

When it hit her tastebuds, she was relieved that it didn't taste as bad as she expected. Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she nodded in approval. She finished the toast on the other side of the plate and pushed it away, deciding that she was full.

"You gonna eat the rest of that?" came a surprised unfamiliar voice.

Cameron looked up to see one of the enlisted men looking back at her with an astonished smile that she gladly returned.

"No, but you can have it, if you want it," she said, offering it to him.

He laughed. "No thanks, I already ate. I'm actually surprised you ate any of it..."

"Why? I'm anemic, not anorexic. I thought it was great. Thank you," she said.

He laughed. "You liked it?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't bad."

"Wasn't bad? Yes, you're right, it's wasn't bad. It was terrible!" He rose a brow. "You actually liked it? I mean, really...be honest."

She blushed, knowing full well it wasn't the greatest. "Okay, it was alright."

"You're too nice," he chuckled.

"That's what they tell me," she said, sadly smiling.

"If that was considered good, you need to get out more."

"Clearly, you've never eaten hospital cafeteria food," she retorted.

He held out his hand with a smile and introduced himself as Lt. Smith and voiced his rank.

"Dr. Cameron," she replied, accepting his hand.

"So, you're the woman," he said cryptically. His eyes narrowed, teasingly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Doc, but shouldn't the _patient_ be on the bed, instead?"

She sighed. "Yeah, well, sometimes even doctors need a physician."

He nodded. "So, are you here in New Orleans for a nice stroll? Cuz' I gotta tell ya, you picked a bad time for it. And not a very competent walking partner," he added, grinning.

"Actually, we're trying to find a FEMA group. We're going to start cleaning up the city and possibly rebuilding."

"Wow," he said, surprised.

"What?"

"I knew there were people out there with big hearts, but I never dreamed they'd be as beautiful as you."

Cameron blushed. She wasn't sure what to say, so she let the only words she could muster, escape. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So, have you found anything unusual while walking the streets?"

She shook her head. "I haven't really had any time to do much searching yet. About the only thing I've seen so far is dumpsters on the sides of the roads."

"Dumpsters...interesting," he said with a grin, knowing full well that there was nothing interesting about them.

"Yeah," she said, sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Real fascinating. To be quite honest, they stink to high heaven."

He chuckled. "Find any dead animals, or people, or anything?"

She scrunched her nose. "No, and I really hope that's not what makes those dumpsters smell. I don't think I could take it, but I wouldn't be surprised. They do have that morgue odor to them."

"Yummy," he said, gulping down the bile that was rising at the thought of it all.

"I hate the smell of death."

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too."

She looked at him in confusion and shock. "You too? Then, how do you work?"

He looked at her quizically. "How do I work? What do you mean?"

"Well, surely you have your fair share of death in your line of work. I only assumed you'd be used to the stench by now..."

He shook his head. "I don't think so...I mean, sometimes people come in here DOA, but, I don't usually see them after that."

Cameron looked blankly at him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, half-amused, half-concerned.

She smiled awkwardly at him. "I'm sorry. I just thought that death was...somewhat, your...specialty."

He chuckled. "Do I look like the Grim Reaper?"

"No," she said, enjoying the charming boyish smile he showed. "I just assumed, being a coroner and all, that you-"

"A coroner?!" he exclaimed, with a stunned look on his face.

Cameron became embarassingly nervous. "You're not?"

Smitty broke out into a hysterical laughing fit, causing Cameron to blush.

"I'm sorry," he said, his laughing starting to calm to a slight chuckle. "What makes you think I was a coroner?"

"I-I just thought that was what you said you were," she explained.

"Ah," he said, understanding the mix-up. "No, I'm a corpsman. I suppose they sound similar."

"Just don't mistake him for Foreman," said House, shuffling up behind Smitty.

"That would be kind of hard, considering we're in Louisiana and Foreman's in New Jersey," she said, playfully glaring at him.

"And for the fact that Smitty's tan just isn't deep enough," he quipped.

"Doc!" Smitty greeted House, "I'm surprised you made it through your breakfast, as well. What'd it rate at?"

House shrugged. "I've had worse."

Smitty glanced at Cameron who grinned, and turned back to House. "Let me guess...hospital cafeteria food?"

House mockingly gasped. "How did you know? Wait! It was _you_ sneaking pickles on my Reubens, wasn't it? Some sort of secret 007 stealth mission to destroy my lunch?"

Smitty gave a forced shiver. "As much as I'd like to take credit for the destruction of your appetite, I can't touch them. I hate pickles."

"Good man." House smirked at him. "Which leads us back to my original suspect - Helga."

"Lunch lady?"

"Yeah," House answered, skeptically.

"Hefty and hairy of Russian decent?"

"How's you-"

Smitty raised a brow. "Unibrow?"

"It's like you were there!"

Cameron rolled her eyes and groaned, letting the back of her head hit the bed.

* * *

**_A half an hour later..._**

* * *

"Angelina Jolie or Carmen Electra?" Smitty asked, after contemplating his mental list of babes.

"Hmm..." said House. "It's a tie. Angelina's got the rack, but Carmen..."

Cameron pulled her pillow tightly across her face and let out a loud, frustrated growl, pulling the two guys from thier conversation.

"Oh, Cameron, don't be jealous. You still have the sexiest caring heart I've ever seen," House joked. Secretly, he did appreciate the way she cared about people, he just wished it wasn't such a burden at the hospital.

"Yeah," Smitty piped up, "but you know what? Angelina may have the boobs, but she doesn't have your eyes."

Cameron removed the pillow and looked at him sheepishly. "You're just saying that."

"Yeah," House agreed, leering at Smitty for flirting with _his_ Cameron.

Smitty shook his head. "No, I'm serious. When it comes to eyes that you could simply drown in, you've got the patent on that."

Cameron blushed and slightly smiled. House noticed her reaction to the compliment and experienced a wave of jealousy. She smiled. He wished that he could make her smile like that.

House cleaned his throat. "Scooter!"

Smitty glared at him. "Yes, Dr. Horse?"

Cameron giggled at the corpsman's intentional throwback of misusing his name.

"Go get McMuffin and Sharpie in here; they owe me money."

Smith nodded.

"And get Cameron's discharge papers ready! I want to get out of here."

Smith nodded again and walked out the door to find the others.

"You're sure in a hurry to leave for someone who has no destination," observed Cameron.

"We gotta leave before they inventory the pharmacy," he replied, a mischevious grin forming on his face.

Cameron groaned. "House..."

He inwardly grinned at the sound of his name coming out from between her lips, which ended up sounding like "Howwwwwse".

"What? They had plenty! They're practically overstocked!"

"Overstocked on what?" asked McDonald, walking into the room with his hand crossed, followed by Sharp.

"Semen," House replied smugly. Cameron smacked him in the arm.

They rolled their eyes. "Right, like you know a good navy joke we haven't heard yet..."

"Wanna bet?" he challanged them. They nodded in responce.

"A naval officer fell overboard and was rescued by a deckhand. The officer asked the sailor how he could reward him. "The best way, sir," replied the bluejacket, "is to-"

"-say nothing about it. If the other fellows knew I'd pulled you out, they'd throw me in," finished McDonald.

House stared at him, irritated, while thinking of a better one.

"Okay," he said, trying again, "A sailor and a marine are urinating at a public restroom. The marine finishes first and washes his hands, but the sailor just walks to the door. So the marine says to him, "Hey, in the marines they teach us to wash our hands after peeing." The sailor says, "Yeah, well, in the navy-"

"-they teach us to not pee on our hands!" smiled Sharp.

House glared at him, frustrated once more. "You're ruining my jokes."

"Well, they're old and predictable. Tell us one we havn't heard, and we won't be able to," grinned Smith, who returned in the middle of his joke with paperwork in his hand.

"Fine. A newlywed sailor is informed by the navy that he's going to be stationed a long way from home on a remote island in the South Pacific for two years. A few weeks after he gets there he really starts to miss his new wife, so he writes her a letter... "My darling," he writes, "it looks like we're going to be apart for a very long time. Already I'm starting to miss you and we're constantly surrounded by young, attractive native girls. The temptation's terrible. I need some kind of hobby to keep my mind off them."

His wife sends him back a harmonica with a note reading, "Why don't you learn to play this?"

Eventually his tour of duty comes to an end and he rushes back to his wife. "Darling" he says, "I can't wait to get you into bed so that we can make passionate love!"

But she stops him with a wave of her hand. "First,-"

"-let's see how well you play that harmonica."

House stood in shock. The punchline of his second greatest some-what clean joke was ruined-and by Cameron!

He growled. "I give up."

They all smiled smugly.

Cameron smiled and thought carefully. "I've got one."

They grinned and turned to her, waiting for her to continue. House turned also, waiting for her to try her luck at it.

"A sailor and a priest were playing golf. The sailor took his first shot missed and said, "Dang it!, I missed." Surprised, the priest replied, "Don't use that kind of language or God will punish you." The sailor took aim and hit his shot second shot. Again he missed and under his breath the said, "Dang it! I freakin' missed again." The priest overheard and replied, "My son, please don't use that language or God will punish you." The sailor took his third shot and once again he couldn't help mutter, "Oh, DANG!…" The priest said, "That's it, God will certainly punish you."

Cameron stopped speaking for a moment, waiting for someone to interrupt her, but no one said a word, so she continued.

"Suddenly a bolt of lightning came down and killed the priest. In the distance a deep voice was heard saying, "Dang it!, I Missed"."

The men started laughing, and House stood there, flabbergasted.

"Are those my dispatch papers?" Cameron asked Smitty.

"Yeah, I just need these sighed and given to Dr. Gentry," he replied, handing them to her.

"May I take them to her? I'd like to thank her."

"No problem, Green Eyes," he said, smiling at her, while earning House's evil eye.

"Thank you," she said, signing the release.

"So, you're the woman, huh?" asked McDonald.

"Excuse me?"

"I just meant, you're Doc's partner? The one he came here with?" he explained, motioning to House.

"Oh," she said, understanding now, "yes, I guess you could say that." She extended her arm. "I'm Cameron."

"Lt. McDonald," he said, taking her hand in his, and chivalrously kissing the back of it. "And this," he said, pointing to the man next to him, "is Lt. Sharp."

"Nice to meet you," Cameron said, smiling.

"The pleasure's all mine," he replied, shaking her hand. "We've heard a lot about you."

House cleared his throat and stared the men down. They backed away, but just barely. He turned to Cameron. "Go get your stuff, so we can go find us some Feds."

She nodded and picked up the papers and walked toward the door. "It was nice meeting you all," she shouted over her shoulder.

"You too," they replied.

After Cameron walked out, the room exploded into cat calls, wolf whistles, and congratulatory applause. House stood back and looked at them all in confusion.

"Way to go, Doc!"

"Me-ow!"

"Wow! She's gorgeous!"

"Yeah, but she didn't keep you up all night!" complained one of the bed-ridden sailors.

House rolled his eyes in a Cameron-like fashion.

* * *

Cameron found Dr. Gentry outside, talking to a male nurse.

"...and then take these to the lab, I need a complete workup on run on them. Thank you," she told him, before turning around to Cameron.

"Dr. Cameron, I trust you're feeling better today."

She smiled, sheepishly. "And ready to be freed. I wanted to thank you, for everything, and apologize to Dr. Richardson. Is he here?"

Dr. Gentry chuckled. "I'm afraid he's taken the week off...something about needing a vacation."

Cameron looked guiltily to the floor.

"It's alright," she reassured her. "The man hasn't taken a day off in years. He needed some time for himself and his family."

She nodded. "Well, here's those papers you needed signed," she said, handing them to her.

She took them and skimmed over them, making sure everything was in order. Seeing that everything was suitably done, she looked back to Cameron. "Very well. You and Dr. House are free to leave as soon as of now."

Cameron thanked her and walked back through the door, eager to announce to House that she'd be released.

* * *

Upon opening the door, she opened her mouth to speak, but was halted by the strinking conversation taking place in her presence.

"...she seeing anybody? Because I'd like to see her...if you know what I mean," voiced an unidentified soldier. She looked around to see McDonald, Smith, and Sharp, now staying as far as possible from the conversation, alternating between staring at each other and the floor.

"No, and you keep that up you won't see anything through your sore, swelled shut eyes," House threatened.

"Why would you want to date someone who's psychoctic? She could pull a Lorrana Bobbitt on you while you sleep."

House glared at him. "I doubt anyone could sleep through that."

Cameron stared at his back in shock. He wasn't defending her. He must really believe she was crazy!

"What? You too old for her?"

Something snapped inside of him-it was his ego. His first instinct was to defend it-and fast.

"Not at all. In fact, she was the one who wanted me. She likes me because I'm crippled. You're perfect; she'd hate you. I'm damaged; she can't get enough of me."

Cameron stood in place, not being able to breathe as his words came back to haunt her a second time; words she heard on their "date" date. Words that had crushed her so hard before, now crushing her ten fold once again.

"Yeah, right," one of the more obnoxious sailors scoffed. "You? Why would she want you? Is she that desperate? That hard up? That _easy_?"

Instead of defending Cameron's honor, he let his stupid mouth run, assuming it wouldn't hurt. "I could've hit that." Inside, he was taken aback by what he'd just said. _Did I just say that? Why would I tell them something like that?_

Cameron's jaw dropped. He wasn't worried about her rep, in fact, he was helping them destroy it to defend his own stupid ego.

"And you didn't?" they asked, in disbelief.

"Eh," he shrugged. "She'd want to cuddle or talk and I'd much rather stare at her amazing body than listen to her babble on about feelings like a little school girl."

"Unless she's dressed like one," another sailor piped up.

"Or a cheerleader..." House said wistfully, trailing off. "Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am." _What!? What am I saying? I'd never do that to her, it would absolutely kill her!_

Cameron gasped, horrified at what he'd just said, not realizing it was audible until the men in the room turned towards the door, the smiles instantly disappearing from thier faces, except from the man who doubted Cameron's interest in House in the first place; House's instigator.

House's heart dropped into his stomach at the sound, and he turned around, wide-eyed, to see her looking at him in anger and pain. He could swear he saw her heart through her chest, breaking into two. "Cameron...Allison..." he started, not really sure what he was going to say to her that would make up for what he said.

He watched as a glassy-eyed Cameron walked slowly up to him and stared at him until he was completely uncomfortable. "Allie, I'm-"

His apology was cut off by the smack that echoed through the room as her hand pelted the side of his face in one of the harshest blows he'd ever received.

"Don't call me Allie!" she said through gritted teeth, grabbing her bag from the chair. "And thanks for making it easier to stop loving you." She looked at the other men, disappointed in them as well, before walking out of the room and down the ramps, toward the dock. His shouts for her to stop fell on deaf ears.

* * *

_"Don't call me Allie!" _His stomach churned. She had told Chase the same thing that day, and she'd meant it as a final warning, something to make sure he knew there was nothing between them.

_"And thanks for making it easier to stop loving you." _Did she want to stop loving him or did she hate him so much that there's not enough room for love in her heart for him anymore.

_I've got to find her_, he told himself, shaking himself from the daze he sat in, his cheek still stinging from her open handed blow.

"You're all idiots," he groused before walking out the door.

"Us?" Smitty exclaimed, walking after him, followed by Sharp and McDonald. "We weren't talking badly about her; that was all you, Doc!"

"And you stood there and let me talk badly about her! You didn't smack me upside the head or anything, you just let me talk, therefore, your lack of action classifies you three as idiots, just not insensitive ones like the others."

"Whatever," they mumbled, starting to walk back inside the room.

House stopped walking and his head dropped before turning around. "Hey!"

They glanced over at him. "Yea?"

"Thanks," he said, nodding.

They nodded in return, slight smiles on their faces. "Yea, Yea, Yea. Go suck up to her, big time!"

"Aye, Aye, Captain!" he saluted, before walking out, humming the theme to Spongebob Squarepants.

He wasn't doing it because he was happy, he did it for an abnormal sense of comfort. It was familiar. Everything else aside from Cameron was foreign, and he had just driven her away. The only thing left was a nautical cartoon sponge as his security blanket. Maybe that's all he needed. He could make it without her, right? _Who am I kidding? I'm an idiot, _he sighed in defeat. _I need her. _

_I need Allison Cameron._

* * *

Sometimes, I need a little encouragement, so I went to google and typed in "Naked Hugh Laurie" and clicked on images. I don't think I've been so inspired! XD

Reviews, please!

P.S. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and, I know it seems like it's going at the pace of a snail, but I promise you, it will speed up soon! Let me know what you think so far!

* * *


	31. Nobody Panic! Help Is On It's Way!

_A/N: Sorry for the update delay. Real life sneaks up on my writing schedule sometimes and pesters me like the annoying bugger it is..._

* * *

_Chapter Twenty Nine_

_**Nobody Panic...**_

"Cameron!" House shouted at her retreating silhouette as it began to disappear down the hall.

No matter how many attempts he made to get her to stop, let alone slow down, he failed miserably, causing him to struggle that much harder to catch up with her.

"Hold on a second..."

She ignored him and kept walking.

House picked up the pace of his limp. "Cameron, I can't keep running after you, my leg can't take it."

Allison slowed her pace down as his voice hit a high pitch, resembling something similar to a plea. She stopped at the end of the hallway and glanced down the hall next to her, spotting a metal bench bolted against the wall. She shuffled over to it and collapsed onto it, staring down at the floor, knowing that running after her was probably torture for his leg.

Moments later, House made it to the end of the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief to find her no longer running from him. He slowly sat down next to her, anticipating the possibility of her jumping up from the bench in an angry haste.

As much as Cameron entertained the thought of leaving or shouting at him and hitting him with his own cane, she kept coming up with the same conclusion; House is - and always will be - House. He would always say the wrong thing, the wrong way, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It's just, who he is.

Although, the same thing could be said for her. As much as she tried to hate him, she only loved him that much more. She was the unmercifully forgiving type; sometimes she thinks that she would forgive him if he even did something drastic, such as committing murder. How did he do that to her? Anyone else would've gotten the "Cameron Look Of Disgust" and never be mentioned again, but then again, House was never like anyone else.

"You're angry at me for stating the obvious...pretty unfair if you ask me..."

Her eyes bulged, not from the anger she expected to radiate from them, from not knowing what to think about his statement.

"See," he continued, tapping his cane against the linoleum floor, "you wanted me, I wanted a piece of my only female subordinate's delicious rump roast, and seeing as how much you love me, you would've given it up to me faster than you can say "Gregory House is superior to all; loved and envied by many."

A cocktail of emotions rode like a wave over Cameron's soft facial features, slowly all fading into a helpless, sob, her head falling towards her chest.

House froze in confusion. _That was a joke! Why's she upset?_

He sighed. Maybe this was going to be harder to make up for than he thought. _Maybe, if I told her how I really feel about her. Or maybe not; she might think I only said it to get out of the dog house. _Inside, he secretly rolled his eyes. _Boy, if this was a well-established relationship, I'd be on my to the couch for the night. Oh, screw it! Tell her how you feel and let her interpret it however she wants; at least she'll know..._

"Cameron?" he said, trying to gain her attention. She tentatively raised her head up until her eyes met his, but stayed silent.

"When I was talking to those morons in there," he said, pointing to the hallway they'd recently descended, "I said some things that were out of line, and, dang it, you weren't suppose to hear them!"

Anger starting to creep over her green orbs until she heard him continue.

"I felt pressured; like I had to explain to them the reason behind you wanting someone like me, but when I realized that even I didn't know, I panicked and just started rambling on about some stupid crap about being damaged, something like what I told you that one time you asked me how I felt about you on our date."

Astounded, Cameron shot him a dumbfounded glance, unable to think of anything to say. _Our date? Did he just say date? Was it proceeded with "Not a" or finished off with "Exactly. Except for the 'date' part"? Maybe I misheard him..._

He smirked. "Yeah, I know I told you it wasn't a date, but I took you out, I paid; which I never do, and I wrestled with the idea of offering you a drink, amazing sex without the exchange of currency, and a bed to sleep in as long as you didn't flop around like a fish, that night. I went home alone, with a peck on the cheek and a bottle of Scotch to keep me warm; it WAS a date. At least that's usually how all of mine end up anyway..."

It WAS a DATE! It WAS a DATE! Cameron replayed his words over and over like a comforting mantra in her head.

"Anyway, I woke up the next morning and I-I was miserable...more so than I normally am."

Cameron's eyes glazed over once again at the possibilities of what he was trying to say. She gave him a sad smile, encouraging him to go on.

"You...weren't there...and...I missed you," he breathed, hoping his insecurities would leave him also.

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, hoping that he could follow through with this.

_I can do this_, he told himself.

_I can tell her._

_I can tell her - and I will!_

_Come on, House, don't wuss out!_

His encouraging conscious went from urging to screaming at him.

_Tell her! Tell her NOW!_

"I...love you...Allison."

* * *

_What? WHAT? What did he just say? No, I have to be dreaming._

_WAKE UP ALLISON!_

Cameron pinched herself and felt the sting of her nails digging into her forearm.

_Oh my - I AM awake!_

_I'm not dreaming?!_

_Maybe I heard him wrong._

Her eyebrows scrunched together and a whine expelled from her throat, sounding a lot like "Huh?"

* * *

_Huh? What does she mean, "Huh?"_

_Did she not hear me?_

_Does she just want to hear it again?_

_This is horribly uncomfortable...where's my Scotch when I need it?_

_He's starting to shy away again...he must've said it!_

_But what does this mean?_

_He has feelings for me?_

_Does that mean he wants to give us a try as a couple?_

* * *

House starting rubbing his thumbs across the top of his cane, nervous and close to shaking.

"Cameron..." he started again, noting her face as she winced, however, he wasn't sure if the use of her last name was what caused it.

"Allison...", he tried again.

This time, when she lifted her head to face him, she used everything she had in her to not emotionally break down.

"I...love you, Allie."

She was so overwhelmed by his confession that when the tears did flow, she forgot to try and stop them. _He called me Allie again_, she thought. Oddly enough, however, it sounded sweet this time, falling from his lips in a soft whisper.

"Say something," he requested, not being able to decipher her thoughts. She knew that a strained "Please" had been nonverbally communicated between them. He was desperately seeking a response, hoping for something equally reciprocated.

Seeing the teardrops fall, his body stiffened. _It's too late_, he scolded himself, his heart sinking into his stomach as it started to churn. _She hates me, she doesn't love me anymore. And why wouldn't she? I've made her life a living hell since I met her. I don't blame her, she's just acting like any normal woman would in the same circumstances._

The depressing thoughts clouded his vision of thinking, and finally it just became too much. He started to stand from the bench, but was stopped by her arm reaching out and grabbing him.

He looked down to hear her speak through clenched teeth, "Don't I get to say somesing before you crawl back into your cold, emotionless shell?"

House took note to her jaw - it wasn't moving. "Cameron..."

"I haf feelings, House," she said, his name pronounced more like Housh. If he hadn't been so concerned, he would've teased her about it, and secretly enjoying how cute it sounded.

"Allison..." he tried to interrupt her.

Failing to do so, Cameron kept trying to talk through the pain of the muscles tensing up in her face.

"You sink zat if you tell me what I want to hear, that I'll forgif you and we'll just moof on whiff our own lifes..."

"Allison."

"...but it kills me to hear you say those things to me and we bof know you don't really mean it."

"Allison!" he shouted.

"What?" she shouted back.

"You're constantly telling me how I feel about things; psychoanalyzing me, just like Wilson, and let me tell you, it's hideously annoying, because you're usually close. Not totally right though, that's me. But you're way off this time. I've said those life-changing words to VERY few people in my life; my mother, Wilson, and Stacy. I've never said it when I didn't mean it, and when I said it to you, I meant it more than each time I said it to the others out together. I told you I loved you when I needed to get an oral swab from you; yes, it was crude of me to play off afterward, but I meant it, just the same."

"You're lying," she said weakly, not really believing what she insinuated.

"I've been known to, but I'm not."

"Oh, really? And I'm just supposed to trust you when you say that?"

"I've never given you a reason to before, but you've haven't failed me yet. You planning to start now?"

She glanced away from him, unable to look into his rare, honest eyes. The strange unnatural instinct to comfort her overwhelmed him again. He brought his hand to her cheek and stroked it gently, then lowered it to cup her chin and lifted her head until they made contact.

"I love you," he confessed whole-heartedly.

Cameron's tears spilled over into a constant flow. "You really mean it? You're not just saying that? Cuz I don't think I could take it again, House."

"I meant it then, and I mean it now. I'd mean it more if you'd put out," he smirked.

A smile graced her mouth, rewarding her with pain as her muscles strained. "Ow!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to comfort her jaw.

"Yeah, lockjaw's a pain," he grinned, reviewing his pun. "You know, I heard that the people most likely to contract that overuse their mouths."

Cameron frowned. "Are you insinuating I'm a talker?"

"That or a REAL man-pleaser, if you know what I mean," he jested with a seductive wink.

She slapped him on the arm. "I'm not one of your cheap hookers, you know."

"Where can I find a cheap hooker? Everytime I order one it's at least a half a grand down the drain."

A stab of pain to her mandible brought her back to the original conversation. "How'd you guess?"

"What, the locked jaw? You might clench a lot, but usually when you snip at me, you have a habit of licking your lips first. Hard to do that when your tongue's on the other side of your grating teeth."

She nodded.

"So, what do you say I grab some meds for your condition and we can bust out of this joint?" he suggested.

"Fine, but we'll talk about...this thing," she said, indicating the two of them, "later on. Right now, I jus wanna be able to talk."

"On a long trip with a women who can't talk...I'm not so sure I like the idea of you being able to speak again."

"No talking, no kissing," she bargained.

"Fine," he growled, frowning.

"Water?" she requested.

He dramatically patted his shirt for a bottle he knew he didn't have. "Dang. I knew I forgot something. Let's flag down a waitress," he smirked. He dug into his pockets and pulling out his cell phone. He tried to use it, but there was no service.

He mumbled something and searched in his contacts and pulled the number for his fellow bunkmate. Finding his number, he stood up and walked over to the phone hanging on the wall. He picked it up, dialed out, and hoped his friend would answer.

Fortunately for him, the person on the other line answered on the second ring.

"McDonald."

"Hey, it's Doc. I need-"

"Doc! How'd it go? You still in the doghouse?" he chuckled.

"The sooner you listen, the quicker I get out. NOW! I need a bottle of water and a plastic syringe."

Cameron's eyes widened.

"Water I can get, but the syringe might be tricky. What's it for?" he asked.

"An enema," he spat at him, "now get them for me and bring it to the Southwest hallway."

"You got it." McDonald hung up and went in search of the items House asked for.

He slammed the phone down and returned to his spot next to Cameron. "Micky's on the way.

* * *

McDonald walked down the hallway to find House sitting next to the woman he was in trouble with. Although, from the looks of things, she had her head leaning against his shoulder. Maybe he wasn't in as deep as he thought he was.

"Here Doc," he said, handing the bottle of Avian and the syringe to him.

House nodded in thanks and removed the plunger, popping in a half-tablet of Vicodin into it and pushing it back into the barrel, trapping the pill inside. Opening the bottle of water, he dipped the plastic ended syringe into the top and sucked water into it, until the pill started to float. Replacing the cap to the bottle, he shook the syringe vigorously until it completely dissolved.

"Uh, Doc, we have that stuff on tap and you probably could've gotten Dr. Gentry to give you a nice dose of the liquid stuff," he grinned.

House shook his head. "Cameron, do you want to stay here any longer?"

Cameron shook her head violently. There was NO WAY she wanted to stay here any longer than she had to.

"See?" House said to McDonald, "watching MacGuyver DOES pay off."

He lifted Cameron's chin with his hand and narrowed his eyes at her while she looked at him in scared confusion.

"Smile," he said. Cameron's lips went upwards slightly, but not enough to help.

"Go like this," he said over exaggerating his smile, showing off every pearly white he had. When Cameron hesitated, trying not to look foolish in front of the sailor watching them, House was left with no choice but to make her laugh. He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out to the side.

As childish as it was, Cameron couldn't help but smile at it-it was quite a sight.

House found a small gap in between the seam of Cameron's teeth and pushed the liquid through and down her throat. Wincing at it's biting taste, she managed to swallow it against her will.

"Don't worry. You were a very brace little girl and just for that, I'm going to find some nice red lollipops. For us. I get more though for achieving the brilliant idea."

Cameron rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, try MacGuyvering you a trip home, Doc, and STAT," warned McDonald.

_There's bad news,_ House thought. _I can feel it coming._ "Why?"

"News just came in over the radio from The National Weather Service. There's another hurricane coming and it's stronger than the last one."

* * *

_**Help Is On It's Way**_

After the news of yet another horrid storm brewing and heading straight for them, House and Cameron agreed that their best plan was to find the FEMA group, so they ventured off of the ship and back into the forsaken streets of New Orleans…

"See any signs?" House asked.

"Nope," Cameron replied in frustrated.

"Any people?"

"No one."

"Anything?" he whined.

"No, House," she sighed, "nothing."

"How's your jaw?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Cameron was caught off guard by it. "Huh? Oh! It's fine."

He narrowed his eyes. "Your teeth were digging into each other for a good hour, Cameron, you do not feel 'fine'."

"Fine, you're right," she said. _As always… _"My jaw's tired, my teeth are sore and my legs are going numb."

"That's believable," he replied. "My symptoms are similar, but without the jaw thing."

Cameron shook her head and they kept walking.

* * *

Over an hour later of still finding nothing, their search for FEMA turned into a search for a phone. If they didn't get out of the city soon, the outcome would be nothing but tragic.

Walking around the marina, they came to a call-station stand with payphones lined against each other. House looked innocently over at Cameron, who rolled her eyes and dug into her pocket for loose change. Extracting her hand, she found a few quarters and handed them to him.

He lifted the receiver to the first one, but found no dial tone. Frustrated, he replaced it back on the cradle and went down the line of them, trying each one, but coming up short.

Cameron walked around to the other set on the opposite side and tested them all, hoping one would produce a dial tone, while whispering a mantra of "please work". As luck would have it, the second to last one sprang to life as the receiver was lifted, inducing a sigh of relief and a smile from Cameron.

House it radiate on her face and diagnosed it as being contagious, when he found his own mouth lifting in a some-what pleasing and grateful half-grin. He limped around to the phone she stood in front of and pushed the quarters through the slot, dialing a number he only used when trying to prank call the Dean of Medicine, and mentally pleading with Cuddy to answer the phone.

"Thank you for calling Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hos-"

"Nurse Ratchet! Get me the Mistress of Medicine, STAT!" he barked, ignoring the anti-amused glare coming from Cameron.

"Ah! Dr. House..." Nurse Brenda drew out, taunting him. "it's good to hear from you. And here I was, starting to _enjoy_ my day."

"You're welcome. Rest assured that anytime your life starts to look too bright and shiny, I'll always be there to mock you, laugh at you, and ignore you while you yell at me and call Cuddy. And, speaking of the devil, I need to ruin her day too...put her on."

"I do believe that that is the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she scoffed, half-serious.

"I have a way about me," he replied, smugly.

"That wasn't saying much," she retorted.

"I never said it was a _positive_ way, it's just _a_ way."

"Truer words were never spoken."

"Until now. I'm too sexy to be in this conversation with you."

She snorted. "And yet, here you remain on the line."

"You're not going to transfer me, are you?"

"Wasn't planning on it," she confessed, glancing down at the patient files on her desk in front of her.

He sighed. "Look you frigid witch...I need to talk to Cuddy. It's an emergency."

"Are you dying?"

"Why? Would that make me more irresistible to you? What is it with women wanting damaged men? Or are you the one in charge of the post-funeral entertainment?"

"Yeah," she snorted, sarcastically. "I'm supposed to jump out of a cake shaped like your coffin."

"How appropriate! It'll be familiar and comforting for you than. Although, you might want to lay off the embalming fluid though- if you're going to _pretend_ to be dead, you gotta look the part..."

Brenda heard mumbling in the background followed by a painful "Ow, dang woman!" from House.

"Good to hear someone's keeping you in line."

"Not in line, just entertained."

"Right, well, unless you have a better excuse, I'm going to hang up now," she warned him.

"What's a better excuse than death? Please tell me, because I can't think of anything worse, except being married...oh, and to you..."

"You're not exactly racking up the brownie points here, Gimpy. You're not dead..."

"Not yet, but we might be soon."

"We?"

"Dr. Cameron, who's standing right next to me as we speak, is really hoping you'll put Madame Cuddy on so that we can find a way out of this God forsaken landfill that was once a city."

"Poor girl. After all the crap you put her through, I don't see why she still puts up with you."

"I'm just that good," he grinned at Cameron, amused at her confused expression.

"Yeah, well, enjoy it now, she might give up on you someday."

"Don't you have patients to torture and calls to transfer?" he asked, suddenly annoyed.

"Fine, but I'm not doing it for you...I'm doing it for Dr. Cameron," she insisted, putting him on hold before he could reply.

"Hmph," he said, glaring at the receiver.

Cameron looked at him, worried that his mouth had cut off their chances of rescue. "Did she hang up?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she did," he replied, trying to ignore the crappy elevator music that played while he waited.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital! This is Dr. Cuddy the Dean of Medicine, how can I help you?" she blurted all in one sentence.

"Careful! Long winded phone greetings could cut off the oxygen supply to the twins. Wouldn't want them to deflate or anything..."

"House!" she exclaimed in surprise, ignoring his metaphorical jab. "How is everything? Where are you? Did you make it okay? What's wrong? Where's Cameron? What did you do?"

He sighed. "Alright, I'm getting tired of everyone assuming that every time Cameron's upset that I did something to her! Cameron, tell the nice lady that I did nothing to cause you to become dead, hurt, or emotionally unstable," he instructed her, holding the receiver to her face.

Cameron looked at him like he were crazy.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay...today."

She added folded arms to the look.

He sighed. "In the last hour."

She nodded. "Dr. Cuddy, House hasn't done anything to cause me to be dead, hurt, or emotionally unstable."

"Are you lying?" she asked.

"Yes," Cameron replied loudly before House had a chance to pull it back from her.

"See, everything's fine," he said, glaring at Cameron.

"Uh huh," Cuddy said, not believing one word of it. "Why are you calling me, then?"

"I missed your nagging and screechy voice. And the violent sway of your butt as you storm from the room."

"House!" Cameron and Cuddy both scolded him.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence, backing away from Cameron's evil scowl. He growled. "Fine…Cuddles, we're stranded and we need a ride home."

"What? Stranded? How can you be stranded? Do you not have any gas?"

House squinted and teetered his head from one shoulder to the other. "Well…not exactly."

"Then HOW exactly, are you stranded, House?"

"Let's just say that if we had gas, it wouldn't do us any good."

"Why? Do you need a battery?" she asked, urging him to just spit it out.

"More like a car…" he said careful and slowly.

"WHAT!?" Cuddy screamed.

House pulled the receiver from his head and grinned as she kept yelling.

"What's wrong with the van I gave you?"

"It was made for soccer moms to drive their rugrats to-"

"I meant mechanically, Greg!"

House put his hand over the mouthpiece and grinned at Cameron "Ooooooh! She said my first name…she is TICKED!"

Cameron grabbed the phone from his hand. "Lisa?"

"Cameron? What happened to the car I gave you guys to-"

"Lisa, please just let me talk. A lot's happened but, long story short, House and I traded the van for one of my cars I had being stored by a friend, but it broke down in Mississippi and we hitchhiked here. Now, where here, we're vehicle less, and if we don't get out of here soon, we're going to loose a lot more than what we've got."

Cuddy wasn't sure what to say. "Cam…what do you mean?"

Cameron sighed and looked at House, the seriousness of their life or death situation starting to sink in as she told Cuddy.

"There's another hurricane coming."

Inside, she was freaking out, but to keep up their moral, she stayed calm. "Alright Cameron. I'm calling around to get you a ride. Stay at that payphone. And, above all, don't panic. Help is on the way!"


	32. We're Already On It You've Got 2 B Brave

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! Here's the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter Thirty

_**We're Already On It...You've Got To Be Brave**_

Minutes turned into hours as they impatiently waited for Cuddy to call them back. Tired of standing, they sought out a more comfortable waiting spot which was found right underneath the phones.

"Again!" House cheered uncharacteristically with a smug smile on his face.

"No more," Cameron groaned, shaking her head.

House glared at her. "I said, 'Again!' woman!"

She folded her arms against her chest. "And I believe I told you 'No more'."

"Again!" he commanded.

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Cameron!"

"House!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"Please?"

"N-" Cameron's retort was caught in her throat at the rarity of politeness that reared it's head. Surprised, she let her head fall back against the post that upheld the payphones and lazily let it roll sideways to come to rest against her shoulder.

House clasped his hand together, intertwining his long, pianist fingers, and held them level with his collar bone. Wrinkles developed in his forehead as his eyebrows shot up, arching over his widened, pleading eyes. To top it all off, like a pro, he stuck out his lower lip in a pout.

As ridiculous as it looked, his puppy dog face still made Cameron melt into a puddle. She'd seen Shrek 2 several times, but House's plea full face put Puss-In-Boots' innocent little kitty pout to shame, hands down!

"Fine," she sighed in resignation. _How can I resist a face like that? And those gorgeous baby blues..._

She drew in a deep breath and started to sing again.

"Forty four bottles of Scotch on the wall, forty four bottles of Scotch! Take one down, pass it to House, forty three bottles of Scotch on the wall..."

She laughed inside as she caught House orchestrating her singing with his cane; swinging it from side to side.

"Forty three bottle of Scotch on the wall, forty three bottles of Scotch! Take one down, pass it to House, forty two bottles of Scotch on the wall."

House waited for her to continue, but she had no intention of continuing.

"You stopped."

"You noticed," she smirked.

"Well?" he coaxed.

She looked at him in amusement. "I've already handed you fifty eight bottles; I'm trying to save you from alcohol poisoning. Besides, that's enough booze to keep Captain Jack at bay for a good solid month!"

House shook his head. "Jeez, what is it with women and Johnny Depp?"

Cameron shrugged, not quite sure of the real reason for the infatuation. "He wears eyeliner?"

He snorted. "I'm sure _that's_ it. Let me guess...you snatched Chase up after you caught him stealing yours from your makeup bag?"

"He wanted what I wanted; no strings attached sex."

"And you picked Chase..."

"He likes me."

"Again, you picked _Chase_..."

"He was accessible."

"And, for the last time, you picked _Chase!_"

"He respects me." She couldn't believe how absurd the words were when they came spilling from her mouth. She didn't even believe that, so why did she continue to make excuses?

"Do you _hear_ yourself when you speak? If he respected you, he wouldn't have taken a drug-assisted advantage of you and you'd never know what the inside of the third floor janitor's closet looks like."

Cameron flinched in a mix of guilt, shame, and anger.

"Who else was there to choose from?"

"Any man in the whole hospital! Or world for that matter! Maybe even a few females..."

Cameron shrugged. "I'm picky and _straight_," she emphasized with a glare, "I wanted someone who's smart, sexy, and-"

"What am I, chopped liver?" House interrupted, secretly a little hurt.

"Ugh," she groaned. _Cuddy should have called back by now,_ she thought anxiously. "I could use one of those bottles."

"Join the club. All we've got is Metaphoric Light, so I suggest you keep singing until we find some of the real stuff around here."

Cameron opened her mouth to protest to singing anymore when the pay phone sounded, interrupting her in an argument she was already loosing.

Neither one of them moved, assuming the other would get it.

"Are you going to get that or see how many times it rings before they decide to leave us here?"

She glared at him and rose to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Cameron?" Wilson asked hurriedly.

"Wilson!" she practically shouted.

House stumbled to his feet and hovered in Cameron's face. "Wilson? Give me the phone. Give me the phone. Give me the phone, Cameron."

Cameron scolded him and waved his hand away from her.

"How are you holding up?" Wilson asked.

"Well, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I want to go home!"

"Cameron, Cameron, Cameron!" House quipped using his best Jan Brady impression. "It's always about you, you, you! What about me, me, me?"

Cameron sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose to fight her oncoming migraine.

House continued, "_I'm_ tired! _I'm_ hungry! _I_ want to go home!"

She ignored his complaints. "Wilson, when are we getting out of here? Cuddy's supposed to be finding us a ride home!"

"We're working on it, I promise you!" he assured her.

"Well?" House demanded, wanting to be informed of everything.

Cameron put a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, and spoke quickly to House while Wilson called for her to make sure she was still on the line. "He said they're working on it." She removed her hand. "Yes, Wilson, I'm still here."

"Jimmy!" House shouted into the phone as best as he could from a foot away, "Work faster! We're running out of Scotch!"

Cameron rolled her eyes, knowing Wilson would immediately ask what he meant by that. Sure enough, as if on cue, Wilson spoke up, "What? Why-"

"We're not," Cameron replied. "House insists we have a rousing rendition of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Scotch on the Wall" while we wait to be rescued."

Wilson chuckled. "Yeah, he never was a real big fan of beer."

Momentarily, the remark caught Cameron off guard long enough to cause her to crack a smile.

"Well, it's better than making you sing Ninety-Nine Red Balloons."

"Not hardly; it doesn't have almost a hundred verses to it!"

"Good point. Hang on a second."

While Cameron heard some shuffling noises, followed by muffled voices she could only hope was Wilson and Cuddy, House's hand started to snake itself up around the handle of the receiver. She cunningly intercepted; smacking his hand away, mouthing her protests to his most innocent "what-did-I-do?" face.

"Cuddy's on the line with the New Orleans mayor's office. Everytime she calls someone she gets referred to someone else. She's been on hold for almost an hour, " Wilson explained with a sigh.

"I doubt he's in his office, considering the city's been evacuated. You might try Baton Rouge," suggested Cameron.

"Yes, Baton Rouge! Why didn't we think of that..." Wilson said, mentally beating himself up. It seemed like such a simple option, he wasn't sure why they hadn't tried it. Baton Rouge wasn't too far from there.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE!?" Cuddy screamed into her phone.

Cameron pulled the phone away from her ear with wide eyes and immediately felt sympathetic for Wilson, the only other person she knew was around to witness such a deafening voice. Slightly distracted after Cuddy's sudden outburst, her body seemed to be rendered motionless; long enough for House to snatch the phone from her hand. He put it to his ear in time to hear Cuddy apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I've been having a rough day," she calmly explained to the mayor's secretary.

"Man! She's got a nice set of lungs on her, huh?" Wilson whispered, half wincing.

"If you like _that_ set, you should see her set of-"

"House!" Wilson exclaimed.

"Jimmy!" House mocked his friend, "Do me a favor and tell Cuddy for making me go on this trip, she has to double my clinic hours of freedom. It's the least she can do," he sneered.

"Can you tell me when he left?" Cuddy asked as nicely as possible in the background.

Wilson sighed. "Why don't you tel-"

"WHAT?! HE LEFT AN HOUR AGO? I'VE BEEN ON HOLD FOR FORTY FIVE MINUTES! IF HE WASN'T THERE WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY SO IN THE FIRST PLACE?" she yelled.

"I don't think now is a good time...she looks pretty hot," Wilson warned.

"Huh," House snickered, "I always knew the Dirty Dean gave you "Special Tingles"."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" he protested.

"Uh huh. Define this "look". Is it the one she gets when we play Hide and Seek, or the one she gets when I run meaningless and expensive tests on my idiotic patients?

"Not quite either of those," Wilson said thoughtfully, "it closely resembles the one she gets before Stacy stops by to inform you that your patients are suing you."

"Ah!" he grinned. "The one where she looks like her head's going to explode."

"Funny, you described it with such intricate detail. Must've been from the hundreds of times you've been sued."

"And, yet, every time, I still I end up with more than what your wives, excuse me, ex-wives leave you."

"I cheated on them; they deserved some compensation from me. Except for Julie."

"What goes around," House sang.

"HELLO? HELLO? URGH!" Cuddy growled, loudly slamming her phone down against the cradle. "WHAT an IDIOT! WHAT do I have to DO to get SOMEONE to LISTEN to ME?"

House chuckled. "Not _what_, but WHO?

"House!" Wilson admonished.

"House?" Cuddy asked. "Here, let me talk to him."

"No, Jimmy! Don't give her the phone! Don't join the Dark Side!"

"House..."

"AHHHHHHHHHH! What have you done with Wilson?"

"House, I don't have time for-"

"Wilson! Look out for the Darth Cuddy Force Choke!"

"Do you want help or not?" she asked, frustrated.

"You're no fun," he grumbled, handing the phone back to Cameron. "Here, YOU talk to her. She keeps trying to speak English but it all comes out in buzzes and clicks."

Cameron put the phone up to her ear. "Lisa? Please tell me you have news!"

Cuddy sighed. "I'm sorry, Cameron, I don't have much more than I did the last time you called. I can't seem to get ahold of anyone."

"Great. What are we going to do now?" she asked, more to herself.

"Allison, I need you to stay strong. Be brave, for the both of you. House won't ever cop to be afraid of anything, but sometimes, you can just tell he's worried. When people worry, they're scared. Try to keep the morale up between you two, okay?"

"I'll try," she agreed. "What are you going to do?"

"We're going to keep trying to find someone to get you both home safely. I'll call again when we know anything."

"Aright. Thanks, Lisa."

Cameron looked sadly at the receiver as she slowly hung it back up.

"Well," House sighed, "let's take a stroll, shall we?"

She looked at him in disbelief. "A walk?"

He nodded.

"No," she shook her head. "we have to wait here for Cuddy to call back."

"Which could take forever," he pointed out.

"Or as little as a minute."

"There's a mess tent down the street by the casino. I don't know about you, but I'm starving and I can't carry two meals and a cane."

He was right and her stomach was growling in agreement. "Alright," she said, standing up to join him as they walked off in search of food.

* * *

After going through the line of volunteers, House followed Cameron as she held both plates, one in each hand, and carried them over to a concrete retaining wall nearby. She handed House his after he sat down and then went to town on her own food; trying not to look to hog-like while practically inhaling her Turkey sandwich. She glanced over to see House smirking at her, amused.

"Could you stop swallowing your food whole? You're not a whale, although, if you keep eating like that you might become as big as one. I don't like performing the Heimlich on an empty stomach," he lied.

Masked concern. Cameron smiled. "This is the closest to real food I've had in the past few days so lay off."

He shrugged and dug into his bag of potato chips. "There's a lot of idiots volunteering here. Maybe you should ask them about the FEMA group."

"Good idea," she agreed, swallowing the rest of her food, leaving House to wonder where it went and how it vanished so fast. "I'll be right back," she told him as she walked up to some uniformed soldiers, giving them her 1,000 watt smile and big, innocent eyes. House grinned. _She's such a suck-up,_ he thought, knowing he'd fallen victim to such a faultless facade before _and when all else fails, she could always cry._

From the grins on the mens' faces, crying was not the tactic that had been deployed. Flirting; a woman's secret weapon against the male species, was most likely her weapon of choice. She nodded, most likely thanking them for their help, and turned back to run back towards House once again.

"Guess what!" she beamed victoriously.

"There's a 1/2 off sale at The Hustler Club down the street?"

She shook her head. "Only if _you're_ planning on taking something off, considering you'll be the only one there."

"I can't pay myself to strip," he pointed out, insinuating Cameron strip instead.

"You're right. You hand me your one's before you go on and I'll pay you," she retorted.

"Trust me, you don't want me to get up and dance for you. It wouldn't be pretty," he protested.

"Who said anything about dancing? If I'm paying you for anything it's to take it off," she joked.

"Sorry, I only perform for private showings."

"I'll keep that in mind," she winked mischievously. "As I was about to say, earlier, I found out where the FEMA office is located!"

"Is it nearby?"

"Yeah, they said it's somewhere here in the Warehouse District over by the marina. It's probably over by the payphones we were originally at. We should go check it out."

"The Warehouse District? I think I'm having a Vice City moment."

"Warehouse District, House. Not the Red Light District," she emphasized.

"What do you think they stock in those warehouses Cameron?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his plate from him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed.

Cameron threw it into the garbage can next to her. "C'mon, House, we've got to get going! The group's probably waiting for us."

"And they could've waited until I was finished eating!" he grumbled, silently venting his full known list of obscenities. He grabbed his cane lying next to him and stood to his feet, trying to keep up with an excited Cameron leading the way.

* * *

As they neared the waterfront, they found themselves wandering around a large building designated as the Earnest N. Morial Convention Center. Glancing into the tinted windows, the lights were shining brightly over a wide waiting lounge of bright orange metal chairs, occupied by numerous abandoned knapsacks and bags left behind. A few flies danced around an small open container of Orange Juice. Overhead hung a sign reading "Atrium Cafe."

"Looks like everyone left in a hurry," Cameron stated sadly.

"I think we might have to arrest David Copperfield. He made everyone in that place disappear."

Cameron smacked him in the arm while chuckling. "Come on," she said, continuing to walk. Upon reaching the end of the building, they found an office door labeled "Offices of the Federal Emergency Management Agency" with their seal printed underneath.

"FEMA!" Cameron cried out in joy and relief.

"Indoor Plumbing!" House shadowed.

In trying, and failing miserably, to contain her excitement, Cameron squealed loudly and flung her arms around House's neck, almost knocking him off balance. Unsure of how to respond, he awkwardly played it off.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We found the government. It just goes to show that when they're looking for you, they find you like, " House snapped his fingers, "THAT! But when you go looking for them, they're hiding in a well concealed corner guarding their running water."

Cameron loosened her arms to pull back far enough to smile at him and receive his in return. In her happiness high, she forgot to contemplate any consequences to her actions as she stood on her tip toes, planting a kiss on his stubble-infested cheek and bounced through the glass doors. House covered his cheek where she had kissed him and mentally did his victory dance (normally ending in an air guitar rift), before following her.

A blast of cool air hit him like a brick wall. He searched the room full of men in military uniforms and business suits for Cameron. He found her across the room speaking to an officer. Judging by facial features, it wasn't a talk he really wanted to join, but the urge he seemed to have regularly about needing to know everything overwhelmed him and had him marching over to join Cameron in no time.

Cameron turned pale. "But, there must be some kind of mistake!"

The man shook his head. "No ma'am. We've no record at all."

She mumbled a barely audible "Thank you", numbly nodded to the man and felt her knees starting to give out on her. She stumbled blindly behind her and into a wall and slid down to rest onto her ankles. It was about this time when House caught up with her. The sight of her was devastating; she resembled a floppy rag doll, her arms fallen limply at her sides while her eyes bore through him at the wall behind him.

"Bad news?"

"He said I'm a liar and that the FEMA Disaster Relief group doesn't even exist!" she whimpered. He could see all the hope she had during this trip leaving her through the single tear the rolled down her face. He tapped the bottom of her shoe with his cane. "Don't start the waterworks. I'll go wring the truth out of him." After catching her almost unnoticeable nod, he limped to the counter.

"Hey you!" House yelled at the man Cameron had spoken with. Knowing that he was who the man was shouting for, he frowned and approached the counter.

"Can I help you?" asked the man sarcastically.

House snorted. "Who do you think you are making my little duckling cry? Only I can do that, and yet, there's a big reason I try not to! Do you have any idea what it's like to have to listen to the wailing, the sniffling and the hiccuping that ensues?"

The men folded his arms. "That's not my problem."

House narrowed his eyes at the ignorant twerp in front of him. "Don't think I won't leave her here and pawn her off on you!"

"Is that a threat?" he challenged.

He stared back at the man for a moment, then let a wicked grin spread across his face. "You poor moron."

"Excuse me?"

"You have my sympathy. Enjoy it; I don't give it out freely."

"Sympathy?"

"You live in your parent's basement, play Dungeons & Dragons, and you haven't had a date since slap bracelets and spandex pants were in style. I wouldn't be surprised if you bat for the same team..."

"Spandex is in style again."

"Not for men. And I rest my case."

"Are you going to stand there and judge me all day?"

_Only since you're dressed like Steve Urkel _House shrugged. "I wasn't really planning on it, but I'll keep going if this annoys you."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me where our group is."

"Like I already explained to her; I don't know anything about this group of which you speak."

"Then find someone who does."

"I'll talk to my boss but he's in a meeting so it could take a while."

"We'll be waiting out in the food court," he said, pointing outside at a vendor.

The man ignored him and walked away.

House returned to Cameron who was still as lifeless as she was when he found her the first time.

"C'mon, Carebear, let's go grab some grub." She gazed up at him at the use of his nickname for her and slowly rose to her feet to follow him.

For House, the need to touch her become almost unbearable and he had no idea why. Maybe he wanted to comfort her. Maybe _he_ felt the need to be comforted. Or, perhaps, it was the feeling of security he got out of her just being nearby. Either way, he slid his free hand down to the small of her back and guided her out the door.

"You know the words to Ninety-Nine Red Balloons?" he asked with a grin.

Cameron couldn't help but let out a tiny grin.

* * *

Me: Now what was that word? Anew?

Hugh: No, I don't believe so.

Me: Light Blue?

Hugh: I'm afraid not.

Me: Coo-Coo-KaChoo!?

Hugh: I believe the word you're looking for is REVIEW.

Me: Yes! You're absolutly right. Thank you, Hugh.

Hugh: My pleasure. Thinks for a moment, eyes squinted "Coo-Coo-KaChoo!?"

Me: shrugs A.D.D.

**Please review! XD**


	33. If U Can Fix It Now, Don't Make Us Wait!

Chapter Thirty-One

_**If You Can Fix It Now, Don't Make Us Wait!**_

Outside of the FEMA offices, House and Cameron were welcomed by a tent set up to aid the volunteers, sponsored by The Salvation Army. Canned food and individually wrapped packages were sprawled out on the tables, guarded by an elderly woman, while a male volunteer cooked the hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken breast patties.

As much as they were starving, they'd left their money at the bus station, assuming since the city was shut down, there would be no need for it. They looked at each other, then at the food, then back at each other.

"You're buying," he piped up.

Cameron snorted. "I have no money. Maybe a dollar at the most; you can't Wilson-weasel lunch out of me today."

He groaned. "Fine. You distract them while I swipe a burger," House whispered in her ear.

"House!"

"It's the perfect plan! Unless, of course, you fail to keep them too busy to notice me stealing from them."

"Whatever. Just, no pickles, no onions."

"But I _like_ onions," he whined.

"I was talking about _my_ sandwich."

"You're getting one, too?"

Cameron's jaw dropped. "What? I thought you were getting food for us both!"

"Sure, let me just throw this cane away and run over there...who do I look like, Speedy Gonzales?"

She began to fidget nervously. "House, I don't know about this..."

"Cam, I know you're a goody two shoes and your conscience is screaming at you right now, but I'm sure your stomach is throwing an even bigger temper tantrum."

"What if we get caught? This city is empty!"

"I'm failing to see the disadvantage here. What's your point?"

"They could spot us anywhere. You can't blend into an invisible crowd!"

He shrugged. "Downed buildings and rubble give us more places to hide."

"You'd know all about those," she scoffed. It was true and they both knew it. He was quite the master of being stealthy, at least for a man with a cane.

"That I would," he beamed, proud of his ability to get around Cuddy's radar. "Now, you talk, I'll swipe."

"If I said, 'Swiper, no swiping!', would you groan, snap your fingers and just walk away?"

"Not a chance, Dr. Dora."

"You watch that show? That is SO sad!"

"Spongebob was on next," he insisted.

"Sure it was."

"How do YOU know about it?" he said, trying to turn the tables on her.

"Once again, I have a niece."

"You're abusing the fact that your sibling has kids to justify the viewing of a tv show made to occupy the mind of three to five year old children. Tsk, Tsk, Cameron. Don't blame the innocent, just fess up."

"We watch it because she watches it."

"You're just using that as an excuse."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you. Just wait 'til you meet Emily. She'll have you at "iHola!"

"Do I have to?" he whined.

"Have to what?"

"Meet your munchkin of a niece?"

_Oh crap, did I just invite him to meet part of my family? Why does it feel like I invited him over for dinner to meet my parents? Quick, Cameron, think of something to say..._

"Only if Skippy happens to be there the next time we visit the zoo. Although you, alcohol and little kids isn't the greatest combination."

"I'm sure we could arrange an encore appearance. Right now, we focus on the food raid. On three, ready?"

Cameron nodded.

House counted down slowly. "One...two..."

"WAIT!"

He groaned. "What, NOW?"

"How am I supposed to distract them?"

"Cameron, you know why I hired you..."

She snorted. "Because I could get by on my pretty looks and not have to lift a finger a day in my life?"

"No..."

She narrowed her eyes. "So...now I'm _not_ pretty?"

"No, you're beautiful, but that's not the reason I was looking for."

"Oh." She thought, contemplating his thought with an understanding nod. Then a grin graced her face. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Embarrassed, he tried brushing it off. "Uh, sure, in a fluffy, stuffed animal sort of way..." He cleared his throat. "Still looking for a different answer; guess again."

"So you could get into my pants?"

"I'm astonished that you're still surprised by that. But, still, not what I'm looking for."

"Because I can make coffee?"

"Better than Starbucks, but no. Think more along the lines of non-physical attributes."

"Because...I'm smart?"

"Are you _asking_ if you're smart? 'Cuz if that's the case, I take it back."

"You think I'm smart?" she asked, grinning.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I think you're smart. Jump and squeal like a high school girl later. Right now, use that smartness of yours and figure out a way to keep them busy."

"I think you've complimented me more in the last minute than you have since I met you."

"Yeah, well..." he mumbled, "No one hears about this or Chase and Foreman'll want to be treated the same and we can't have that, can we?"

Her smile broadened. "No, we can have that."

"So...got a plan yet?"

"Um...okay, I got it."

"Alright...Get ready...Get Set...GO!"

Cameron walked up to the lady behind the table. "Hi, I was wondering if you could help me..."

* * *

House watched Cameron talking to the woman behind the counter. When the male volunteer at the grill walked back to the truck, he saw this as his opportune moment.

He sneaked around behind Cameron and made his way down the table, closer to cooked meat. Grabbing a plate, he snatched a couple of hamburger patties from the aluminum tray and poured ketchup on them.

Glancing over at Cameron, he saw the woman she was talking to was pointing in the opposite direction. Cameron must've asked for directions.

He went to grab a couple of bags when his attention was taken by movement behind the table. Looking up, he found himself face-to-face with another female volunteer. His mouth bobbed open and closed, not sure of what to say.

The elderly woman smiled at him. "Would you like a fruit cup with that?"

Still in shock of being caught, he simply nodded and watched her grab a cup of peaches and put them on his plate.

"Thanks," he mumbled, backing away closer to where Cameron was standing.

"We've been apprehended. Let's run for it!"

Cameron smiled and folded her arms. "House."

He quirked an eye at her. "Cameron?"

"It's free," she said, trying not to laugh.

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "What?"

"The food," she reiterated, "it's free."

"Oh," he said sadly looking at his fruit cup, somewhat disappointed at using such a stealthy plan for nothing.

Cameron grinned at him, waiting for more of a response, giving him a chance to redeem himself from his embarrassment. She wasn't disappointed.

"Grab me another fruit cup, woman!" he exclaimed, making his way to some lawn chairs that had been set up.

She chuckled and grabbed another cup of fruit, thanked the women and sat down in the law chair next to him.

She turned her head to see him inhaling his lunch.

"Good?" she asked with a smirk on her face.

He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of burger. "It's no Cafe Spiletto, but it's better than nothing. What do you think?"

Cameron snorted. "How would I know? You threw everything back in my face, so I left before I got to try any of the ravioli."

House's face fell. _Oh yeah. Nice one, idiot! What are you trying to do, make her cry? _He cleared his throat and tried to look optimistic. "Well, next time, eat just enough before you're full and we'll get the Tiramisu; it's to die for."

Cameron's put down her burger with raised brows. "What? Aren't you being just a tad bit presumptuous?"

He shook his head. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it. More for me."

She knit her brows together in frustration. "No, I meant-"

House nodded, knowing what she really meant having nothing to do with food. "I know what you meant, but again, you don't have to. I just figured, when we get back, that it'd be nice to eat food and have meaningless conversation without the intention of sabotaging it. That way, it goes however way karma wants it to go."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. "Are you asking me out?"

He growled on the inside. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

Beaming, she shook her head in smug amusement.

He rifled around his head for the best word phrasing. "Cameron...you're having dinner with me."

Cameron's smile faltered and she shook her head. "No thanks, I have plans."

"Yeah, I don't think you were listening. With me. For dinner."

She shook her head again. "No, I have other plans."

He threw the rest of his burger down on his plate. "You wanted me to ask you out, I did, and now you're turning me down? What in the heck is wrong with you?"

Her frown deepened at his generalized, sexist remark. "Yes! I wanted you to ASK me out, not COMMAND me to go with you."

He grumbled incoherently. Gritting his teeth, he drew out his words as if they were hard for him to speak. "Cam-er-on..."

Cameron cleared her throat and looked at him warningly.

House sighed deeply and thought again before he spoke. "Allison?" he tried.

She nodded for him to continue.

"Will...you...go out...with...me?"

She grinned wickedly. "Depends. Where are we going?"

"Cafe Spil-"

"Nuh-uh," Cameron interrupted, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Bad memories."

Huffing, he blurted out the next thing he could think of. "Fine. We'll go to a place in Trenton."

"There's a lot of places in Trenton, House."

"It's a restaurant."

She curiously studied him for a brief moment. "Of what genre?"

"The entertaining kind."

"It better not be a strip joint!"

""Killjoy."

"Preferably something a little more G rated."

He nodded. "Pizza and pinball it is!"

"No way! Don't even THINK of taking me to Chuck E. Cheese, House."

"You said you wanted a more innocent rated dining facility. That's as low as I go."

Cameron smiled. "How about we settle for PG-13?"

"And Dr. Cameron goes all out and takes a walk on the wild side," he smirked.

"Know anything that falls in that dining margin?"

"Well that depends...you like jazz?"

* * *

After silencing their grumbling stomachs, they decided the best course of action was to do some more walking, as much as neither one of them was really up to it.

He positioned his cane for maximum leverage and pulled himself up from his chair. "We need to get an update from the Dean of Dirty Deeds."

Cameron nodded and pulled herself to her feet as well, brushing off the butt of her jeans. House hooked the handle of his cane around the strap of her backpack and lifted it up, handing it to her.

She unhooked it from the curved wood and thanked him with one of her 1000 watt smiles. It must have been contagious, for he flashed one at her almost just as big.

They made their way back to the payphone booth to find it occupied.

Slowly, they approached the phone where a middle aged man stood, jawing away to someone he was acquainted with.

Cameron frowned at the discovery of it's usage, while House glared evilly at the guy.

After closer examination, he was inwardly thrilled to discover that this was no ordinary stranger.

Giving him a minute (more than enough time, according to House), they started to grow agitated and impatient. House popped his cane into the air and grabbed it near the bottom, his fingers barely touching the rubber tip. Aiming it just right, he held it out towards the pay phone and brought down the hard wood against the metal hook switch, abruptly ending said phone call.

"House!" Cameron admonished.

Appalled, the stranger turned to House with the facial expression of a large mouth bass and stuttered. "Now THAT was completely uncalled for... Oh. It's you! Dr. Dementia..."

House grinned. "Afternoon, Private Penis."

"That was a VERY important business call!"

House snorted. "Don't worry, you can call mommy back later."

Brushing off his remark, he readied himself to leave, but first looked apologetically at Cameron, removing his cap and nodding. "Ma'am."

Cameron simply returned it. There was no good way to justify House's actions, so she made no attempt at it.

After the soldier walked off, Cameron slapped him a good one on the arm. "Is there ANYONE on this planet you won't offend?"

"Not if they're still breathing," House smirked, holding out his hand.

Sighing, she reached into her pocket and extracted a couple of quarters, handing them to him. "Your mother must be SO proud."

He turned around and slipped them into the phone and dialed the number for PPTH.

* * *

Cameron sat, listening to House's one-sided conversation.

"Yes, I'd like to speak to someone with testicles, please."

Cameron rolled her eyes.

Pause.

"Right back at ya, Jimmy. Where's Dr. Derriere at with finding us a ride home?"

Pause.

"And?"

Pause.

House sighed and rubbed a hand through his thinning hair in frustration. "Fantastic."

Pause.

"Fine right now, but we'll die if we don't get out of here soon. And by die, I mean it in every literal sense of the word. Kicking the bucket. Drowned like rats. Ceasing to be. Biting the dust. Going to a watery grave. Pushing up-"

"House!" Cameron growled, pleading with him to not joke about their possible future fates.

House glanced apologetically at Cameron. "What's she doing now?"

Pause.

"Fine. I'll check with Hank and see how the cars doing. Maybe he could pick us up."

Pause.

"Yup. Sure. Likewise. Don't do anything I would do."

Without saying goodbye, House hung up the receiver. He turned to Cameron who gave him a sigh along with more change.

He took the coins from her palm and put them into the phone, dialing Hank's number.

"Hello..."

"Hank? It's Greg. Listen I was wondering..." House started.

"This is Hank. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks.," voiced Hank's voice mail.

"BEEP!"

Grumbling at the annoying tone ringing in his ear, House left Hank a message concerning the update status of the car and sadly hung up.

He turned around and sat down next to Cameron.

"So..." he started.

"So..." she replied.

Silence met them until House broke the awkward silence. "How about we play a game while we wait for Wilson to call back?"

Cameron nodded. "Okay. What game?"

House grinned wildly. "Americal Idol: Mardi Gras Edition."

* * *

Sorry for the slow update and the shortness of the chapter. It got long, so I broke it in half to post the next one tomorrow. Let me know what you thought! XD Thanks!

* * *


	34. Ain't Nobody Coming, Back Away From Case

Chapter Thirty-Two

_**There Ain't Nobody Comin', Back Away From The Case**_

"Come again?" Cameron asked as they continued walking.

"American Idol: Mardi Gras Edition. It's like the original, but takes place in this place," he explained. "Let's play while we head back towards the FEMA office. We need to find out where everyone's at and I have to use the little cripple boy's room."

"Don't we need judges for this?"

"We've got each other." Cameron blushed at his words, knowing he meant them in a different context, and filed the memory away for future deciphering.

"Besides," he said so arrogantly Cameron could swear she saw his brain swell, "I'm an excellent judge of character. You, on the other hand, are horrible."

Cameron gasped. "What makes you sat that? I like YOU don't I?"

"I flattered, but seriously...my case in point."

"Whatever. Fine, I'll play."

"Good."

"And I'll sing."

"Great."

"And you can make fun of me by telling me how horrible I am at singing."

"Stop!" he said, holding up his hand. "If you give me permission, it takes the fun out of it."

"Reverse psychology. Interesting..."

"Actually...the _real_ fun is why I named it the 'Mardi Gras Edition'."

"If I win, you'll flash me?" she grinned impishly.

He shrugged. "If my randomly gray chest hairs and slowly forming man boobs are the sick type of thing you go for, sure. Whatever turns you on..."

She smiled.

"Sicko," he smirked, "And if _**I **_win..."

"I'm not showing you my boobs," Cameron cut in.

House exploded into whines. "But Cam-eron!"

She shook her head. "Nope; ain't gonna happen."

"Is it because of the lack of beads? We could use a replacement! If we can find some string, I know the fruit cup lady was hoarding a can of peas earlier..." he said, looking around.

She shook her head at his childish whining. "Doesn't matter, you won't be winning anyway."

He narrowed his eyes at her challenge. "Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "It's not an idea to sell to you; just the truth."

"You really believe that?"

"Try me," she stepped forward, getting into his face.

"My pleasure," he waggled his eyebrows. "You sing the song I pick for you."

"What if I don't know it?"

"Everyone knows it," he assured her. _Now I'll finally get to see if she's any good. But it's got to be challenging. Ah-ha! Looks like I'll get to hear it tonight after all..._

"Ninety-Ninety Luft Balloons," House grinned wickedly. "Start singing, little birdie..."

* * *

House was surprised to discover that Cameron belted out the first two choruses pretty well. He was pretty sure he could easily mistaken her for the singer of Nena.

_**"...As Ninety-Nine Red Balloons go by..."**_

He watched her as they walked, once again, down the marina, waiting for her to keep singing.

Cameron blushed, looking sheepishly at him. "Sorry, House, I'm not even going to try to repeat the next verse. It's all in German and that happens to be the language course I didn't take in high school. "

He huffed. "There's nothing to it."

"Then YOU sing it."

He shook his head. "I don't sing."

"You can play, I'm sure you can sing as well."

"I _could_ but I _won't_. Nice try, but I sing for no one but my rubber ducky. Just go with the English version."

"I don't even know the translation. I couldn't sing it for you in Spanish or English," she confessed.

House nodded, slightly disappointed, and lowered his eyes; fixing them on the tips of his Shox. Ignoring the queasy feeling invading his stomach, he quietly started to hum a few chords to the song. As he got deeper into it, he mentally dove into the song, forgetting his one-woman audience, and familiar foreign words fell from his lips.

_**"Neunundneunzig Kriegsminister, Streichholz und Benzinkanister, Hielten sich fuer schlaue Leute, Witterten schon fette Beute"**_

Cameron looked to House in surprise; shocked to hear his low, gruff voice in perfect tune.

_**"Riefen: Kring und wollten Macht, Mann, wer hatte das gedacht, Dass es einmal soweit kommt, Wegen neunundneunzig Luftballons."**_

As the last word surfaced from the deep grumbling in his throat, he found himself feeling awkward and somewhat abashed at his unexpected outburst of song. Now he found himself scared. Scared to look up. Scared to see Cameron's reaction. Scared of the awkward silence that became the metaphoric elephant in the room that no one acknowledged.

He was now resorting to praying for an escape. Hoping for something to happen.

Cameron must have caught on. Before they knew it, the final verse from the song, subconsciously, rolled off of her tongue.

**_"Ninety-nine dreams I have had, and everyone a red balloon. It's all over and I'm standing pretty, in the dust that was a city."_**

A chill ran down both of their spines at the softly-sung words.

**_"If I could find a souvenir, just to prove the world was here...  
Here's it is a red balloon..."_**

Cameron's last words echoed in his ears.

**_"I think of you, and let it go."_**

And then, there was a deafening silence.

Until House cracked a joke to break the awkward emotional tension between them. "Foreman says, "It was aight, dawg, but chu got tu put some soul, add some flava flav to the mix, you know what I'm sayin', home skillet, G-fry?"

Cameron giggled throughout his rapper thug impression. "Don't you mean, Randy?"

"Same difference," he said, with an ornery glint in his eye.

"How about Paula?"

"You mean Cuddy Abdul?" he scoffed her in his best Valley Girl accent. "She, like, totally thinks your outfit just looks fan-TASTIC, but, and I agree with her, you need to undo a few more buttons..." House trailed off, pointing to her tank top.

"House, this is a tank top. There _are_ no buttons."

"Hey! It's my fantasy reality show! I get pick out the clothes you were wearing..."

"Wait! What do you mean _were_ wearing?"

"Well, you had to take them off so I could see the naughty scraps of fabric you have left."

Cameron smacked him on the arm. "Do I even want to _know_ what 'Simon _House_' had to say?"

House tapped his cane to the ground in thought. "Simon says, 'Take off your shirt. You lost."

She rewarded House with another slap on the arm.

"Ow! Quit abusing the cripple! Okay, okay. Simon says, 'Your German knowledge is non-existent. You're nervous and da-"

Cameron glowered at him with her arms crossed. "If you say 'damaged', I'll castrate you where you stand and you'll be dining alone."

"Dangerously naive. Don't quit your day job...otherwise I'd But," he punctuated loudly, "and it's a very stunningly tight and shapely butt," he leered, "you can carry a tune, which is more than I can say for some oncologists, named Wilson, who shall remain nameless.'."

She pushed aside her blushing at his compliments and teased him. "It's hard to be nameless with a brand like 'Wilson'."

"Yeah, well, his mom was going to name him Jamie, but they thought it might confuse him once he hit puberty."

She shook her head, laughing before growing calm and thoughtful. "You know," she said, contemplating the similarities between their situation and the song, "that songs seems eerily appropriate for this place."

House simply nodded, not sure of what to say and not trusting himself to say anything that just popped in his head without thinking about it first. As he realized that talking was becoming too difficult, he noticed his leg starting to hurt more and more. Reaching into his pocket, he popped a couple Vicodin out and into his hand before dry swallowing them.

The familiar popping sensation that had graced her leg the day before began to return. It hurt, but she didn't want to make a song and dance out of it. Accepting that she had overworked it once more, she glanced pleadingly over to him. "Do you want to rest for a little bit?"

_"Pity!" a voice screamed in House's head. He recognized it as his collection of self-doubt and insecurities. "She pities you! She feels sorry that you're nothing but a worthless cripple! Rest? HA! She just wants to fix you so she can feel good about herself and then leave you! Just like Stacy did!"_

"No," he gruffed.

Cameron really felt she needed to rest. "Um...are you sure? We could just take a short-"

House narrowed his eyes and his sarcastic defenses went into full battle. "I know how doing your "caring thing" makes you feel all giddy and accomplished like you've fixed me, but my leg's **_fine_**, _Dr. Cameron_." He surprised himself by his sudden wave of irritability and anger towards the co-dependency he feared he had developed with Cameron. He was afraid to depend on anyone else, in fear that they would up and leave, without notice and he would be left behind, helpless and emotionally broken; more so than he already felt now.

When they approached the corner of the sidewalk, Cameron stopped walking and stood in bewilderment with her jaw dropped slightly. _What brought on this?_ she wondered._ Was it something I said? I didn't want to take a break for his sake, even though I would if he needed one... _

How was it that he could make her feel like she was finally scaling over some of his maximum security prison-like walls and then turn around and ambushed her before she takes another step? Why did he punish her when a reward, of even the simplest kind, was so clearly in order?

Shaking her head in disappointment, Cameron sat down on the concrete and painfully extended her leg to relax it. She tilted her head back against the brick building behind her and closed her eyes.

House had kept pushing on, wrapped up in his own mood to notice the absence in the sound of the second set of sneakers shuffling behind him. When it came to his attention, he glanced next to him to find no one there, nor was there anyone on at his opposite side. He slowed his pace to a stop and turned around to see Cameron down the street, sitting non-nonchalantly on the street corner like a high school student waiting for her parents to pick her up.

He sighed, internally debated what to do. _To leave or not to leave...that is the question. Let's weigh out the pros and cons shall we. Pros: No more from pity-party Cameron, no more awkward silences, I can go find us a way home without Cameron slowing me down. _House shook his head. He knew that Cameron wasn't slowing him down at all. As usual, it was easier to blame someone for everything that went wrong rather than having to take responsibility for anything. _Cons: There's no one to talk to, she constitutes better scenery, and she might flip out if I disappear altogether._

He was well aware of what needed to be done, but his actions were overthrown by his unexplainable impulses of protectiveness. Defeated, he started back toward his exhausted partner with a hobbling gait.

He stopped at the opposite corner and waited for a short parade of military squads to pass. Tanks and Humvees; it was almost comforting to him. Of course, that's what life was like growing up on military bases. Camouflage and Olive drab. Salutes and marching. Orders and punishments to those who didn't follow them. He was mostly unfortunately familiar with the last two.

When it looked like they had cleared out once more, he continued across the street and stopped short, letting his shadow blanket over her.

Cracking open one eye, she took notice of House and winced before returning to her peaceful resting pose.

"So...you work this corner often?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of your nasty, disgusting, low-life hookers, House!" She tried to snap at him, but the anger in it died in her throat. All that was left was the hurt.

"They're not nasty," he said, lamely trying to defend the couple young women who gave him an occasional, costly distraction. "They're just open-minded when it comes to making their livings."

"Yeah, they're _open _alright," Cameron snorted in disgust. "Always taking the _easy _way throughout life."

House dramatically mock-gasped. "Why, Dr. Cameron! Was that a pun I heard? Watch it, if you're not careful, you'll turn into me."

"Not a chance. The day I become heartless, is the day I die and they surgically remove it from my organ-donor body."

"And then someone else can carry on all your fluffiness and help other people and donate it when they die, causing a vicious loving cycle," he huffed. "I'm surprised it still exists, considering how you give it out to people who only rip it to shreds when they throw it back at you," he snarled.

"Maybe if you'd stop breaking it, it would be in better shape," she mumbled, sadly glancing at him with a look that signaled the end of the conversation if it continued this way.

It wasn't really what she expected to say out loud, but House heard every syllable and felt a slight stab of guilt at hearing it. The words "I'm sorry" were trying to form, but never made it from his mouth.

"Fine," he growled, lowering himself onto the ground next to her. "Happy now?"

House could see her eyes roll underneath her closed eyelids.

"I will be, once the pain goes away."

"The pain NEVER goes AWAY, Cameron!" he argued. "It's there. It's been there since I can remember and it's **not** going to disappear, no matter how hard you wish it away. Although, THIS" he said, popping another two Vicodin in his hand, "does take the edge off."

Cameron opened and eye to watch House tossing a pill in the air and raising his head up to catch it in his mouth. As he tossed the second one up, Cameron snatched the bottle from his hand and tossed it out into the street.

House looked at Cameron in an enraged confusion. "What the he-"

She glared at him, infuriated. "Open your eyes! This is NOT about YOU, House! Not everything is about _you_ and YOUR pain!"

"That's EXACTLY what this is about! You take one look at the poor, helpless cripple and insist that we need to take a break because he looks like he can't make it much further." House heightened his normally gruff voice to a high, falsetto pitch and mocked her. "Oh, no! Poor Dr. House! He might collapse! Here! Let ME help! Let ME!"

"Bastardo Egoísta," she swore in a low mutter, painfully attempting to turn over on the side that removed House from her view.

"Bet you didn't learn THAT in Spanish 101!" he barked, staggering to his feet. He turned around to retrieve his bottle of pills, when another convoy drove down the street, denying him another step forward.

Underneath the vehicles, the orange cylinder rolled back and forth, dancing from the gust of wind being created by the passing vehicles. It dodged a few tires until all the vehicles had passed.

House sighed, letting out a breath he'd been holding since they left his hand. Relieved, he stepped out into the street to bent down to grab it when he heard a low growl coming from his left.

His body froze and he looked up to see a large dark haired Siberian Husky stared back at him, challenging him for the pills. _A dog? Where the heck did he come from? _

He extended his fingers to reach down further, hoping the dog wouldn't notice.

It did.

The growling increased and lowered in volume, signaling that the dog was NOT okay with anyone touching the round bottle that made noise when shaken. To him, it was crutch, to the dog, it was a toy. A toy that House quickly realized, as he stood back up, that he wasn't getting back! He slowly stood up straight and he and the dog stared at each other for a moment.

Growing tired, the dog cautiously started walking closer to House until the bottle was right below him. The dog ducked his head down and grabbed the bottle between his razor sharp teeth and ran off in the direction of the convoy that had passed.

"Hey!" House yelled at his retreating form, "Come back here!"

Feeling gypped, he shuffled back over to Cameron's unconscious body and slid down until his butt hit the ground. Feeling the warm body against her back side, she sat up and turned over to look at him.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

House stared in front of him, staring at a small rock on the ground in front of him. In a very normal, but somewhat saddened tone, he replied, "A dog ate my Vicodin."

Cameron's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "What?"

House's frown deepened as he repeated, "A dog ate my Vicodin."

"Oh," Cameron replied, dropping her head in a sympathetic mourn.

House nodded, still staring at the stupid, little, boring rock.

Suddenly, a very unladylike sound expelled from next to him.

Lifting his head, he peered next to him to discover Cameron's body convulsing. Her hair had fallen in front of her shoulders, curtaining his view of her face. _Is she having a seizure?_

House lifted up her veil of hair to see a large smile on her face.

She was laughing. _Laughing!  
_

"Yeah," he griped, "the gimp lost his pills. Laugh it up."

"I'm-I'm sorry!" she said, in between grabbing gusts of air, "that's just...not something...you hear everyday!"

Mulling over the events that just happened, the humor of the situation crept up on him, and he caught Cameron's contagious chuckling, along with a small grin, still not believing what just happened. The irony was incredible.

Cameron looked over at House. "I've got extra...when you need it," she said, handing him the information like a peace offering.

Weighing his options, he knew this was his best choice to go with, so he shook his head in acceptance. As if an unspoken request was made, Cameron laid back down on the sidewalk and carefully rested the back of her head against his good leg, falling into a shallow sleep.

House absently ran his fingers through her hair, watching as truckloads of uniformed soldiers drove by, not bothering to stop and ask if they needed assistance. Military helicopters hovered overhead, either waiting to dock or take off in search of survivors.

Somehow, they had fallen into the cracks of this place. Volunteers, yet still civilians. Stranded, but not in danger of drowning-yet. Helping, and in need of help. Walking was out of the question for a gimp and a half.

The stress of the day had caught up with his female companion, so he let her nap while he wracked his brain for an escape plan.

* * *

Cameron jolted awake from the sound of a diesel-engined truck driving by.

"Bought time you got up. I was starting to worry about the lack of circulation in my good leg. Thought it was going to fall off."

"Sorry," she apologized, rubbing his thigh to encourage more blood flow.

"It's fine." House had to hide a grin as he realized that he really was okay with it. It came as a surprise to him, considering the intimacy problems he'd had after Stacy left him. "Come on. Let's go hoard the phones again and call around for a taxi."

They both stood shakily from the ground and headed back the way they'd come numerous times before.

Reaching the payphones, he dialed Hank's number first.

"This is Hank."

"Hank...Greg House. Listen, I was wondering what the status is on my baby."

"Well, I've got the fellas taking a closer look at 'er right now, but I'm sorry to say, it looks like it's still ain't gunna be ready til Wednesday."

"I was afraid you'd say that. Wait...who's looking at it?"

"just the guys from the shop."

"HEY! Tell them to keep thier dirty grease monkey hands off of her!"

Hank laughed. "It's alright. No one touches it until Mike gets here to tow it over to his shop to be fixed. We're simply sheltering it for ya."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Hey, how's it goin' with your girl?"

House remained silent, not sure what to say.

"Ah, well, you better get on it! Tell her how you feel!"

House snorted. "I don't think a confession of feeling is what she needs right now."

He could hear Hank smiling through the phone. "My pappy used to say, 'There's no better time than the present.'"

"Feelings won't get us out of New Orleans, Hank."

"No, but it'll make it more tolerable while you try to make it out of there."

House had to agree on that. "Maybe. Later Hank."

"Take care Greg."

Cameron watched him hang up with a glance of disappointment. "Well?"

"The monkeys are playing ring around my Mustang," he sulked.

She smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood in his own sarcastic way. "And our ride?"

He shook his head and started dialing again. "I'll try Wilson again."

As he talked to his best friend halfway across the continent, Cameron's thoughts ran through all of the thinkgs that had happened and were happening to them. She mentally recapped their situation and all of the possible outcomes, preparing her for any sad acceptance of fate that should come her way.

"Yeah! Well, _thanks _for your _help, BUDDY!_" House angrily shouted, slamming the reciever down.

Cameron's heart fell into the pit of her stomach. "What? House? What's wrong?"

He started pacing, not speaking a word. Tons of thoughts ran through his head. _What now?_

"House?" He still didn't respond, not hearing her over his own thoughts.

His lack of response was worrying. "Greg?" she choked out.

His head snapped up to look at her. She wanted an answer. One he didn't want to give.

"No one's coming Allie," he said, bowing his head in failure. "No one's coming."

* * *

Naked Hugh Laurie sits in a hot tub, waiting for you to join him.

There's a cover charge for admission to the hot tub.

1 Review, please!

(Naked Hugh Laurie just couldn't stay away...)

* * *


	35. That Bell U Hear That's Hell N Your Ears

_A/N: Sorry it's been awhile. Life sucks. But not half as bad as the Huddy drivel they've got going on right now on the show. I detest Huddy. That is all. Danielle Lynne  
_

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

**That Bell You Hear, That's Hell Ringing In Your Ears...**

"What?" she hoarsely choked out.

"No one's coming," House clarified. "Cuddy can't find a pilot or driver within a ten-thousand mile radius who's mentally unstable enough to come rescue us. Not in this weather."

Cameron coughed a laugh of disbelief, hoping that this was just a practical joke-and not a very funny one. She stared at him, waiting for him to change his answer.

Just as she feared; he didn't.

A mix of emotions washed over her face as she became indecisive of which one to stick with. Finally, it settled into a look of determination and anger. "No."

It was simply stated, but her tone packed the punch. It was the sound of finality.

His eyebrow arched. "No?"

"I won't accept that."

House sighed, tossing her a look mixed of pride and sympathy.

"Cameron..." House tried to comfort her with his voice, but it came out sounding weak and pitiful.

"Don't 'Cameron' me, House," she growled. "I _refuse _to accept that no one's coming. Not then, not now, not ever!" She wasn't going to let this happen. Not after they traveled so far. Not just physically on this trip but emotionally between themselves. She wasn't going to let some stupid thing like the weather interfere with that.

"I don't really see where either one of us has any say in the matter. We've got no other choice," he admitted.

"There's always a choice," she insisted, trying to turn and walk away from him.

"I disagree," he said, hooking his hand onto her upper arm, just above her elbow. "And here's why...we're stranded. In the middle of a city that's destined to drown. We've no food, no ride, nowhere to go." He felt a pang of guilt as he watched her spirit fall. "Face it, Allie, the hurricane gods have spoken."

"Well...surely the military will help us...right?" she whimpered softly, almost too quietly for House to hear.

His heart broke as he watched her glance helplessly into his eyes, begging for a backup plan. He swallowed hard. He knew that look. He received it from her only during the real tough situations like when he handed her the results to her HIV test, when she hoped she didn't have to tell her patients or their families bad news and during differentials of cases that seemed impossible to solve.

He placed a comforting palm on her shoulder, relaying that he had no escape plan for their situation. This was their fate. The only thing left to do was to accept it.

He shook his head dismally. "I highly doubt it. The military's got their own orders to carry out."

He noticed her face was starting to crumple up as the corners of her mouth turned downward and her eyes glazed over. It was sinking in and he could see the last spark of her hope starting to fizzle out. Emotions were invading and conquering over her self control.

Alarms sounded off inside of House's head. _Warning! Warning! Emotional Breakdown in 5...4...3...2..._

He cleared his throat. "Let's head for the mess tent again. I think I saw an American Red Cross station not far from there."

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying to cease the waterworks from falling. She knew he was trying anything to stall her emotional outburst from happening. Nodding, she silently thanking him for delaying it for a while longer and for stretching out what was left of her thin ray of hope. Then, she replayed his suggestion in her head and her eyebrows creased in question and sudden concern. "Is it your leg? Are you okay?"

He grinned slightly. "Listen to you! One moment you're about to bawl like I ran over your puppy and, the next thing I know, you push everything else aside and start worrying about me! Bipolar, much?"

She wiped her face with her hands and rested them on her waist. "Well, excuse me for caring about your well-being," she snapped.

"It's what you do best," he replied, smugly. "Besides, you care enough for the both of us. I think I'll take a vacation..."

She wanted so badly to be angry at him, but she couldn't find it in her to stay that way. There was something about the way he smiled at her that made her knees want to buckle and the rest of her body melt into a puddle of lovesick teenager. Her angry glare faded and was replaced by a wicked smile.

His grin was accompanied by the narrowing of his eyes. "What?"

"You did something nice," she teased him.

He smirked at her. "Contrary to popular belief, I have a few nice things, here and there, in my lifetime."

Her smile grew bigger. "Yes, but you did this one for someone else. A completely selfless act."

"Ah! But I did it for highly selfish reasons, I assure you."

"Uh huh," she said, not believing him for a second.

He shook his head. "Let's go," he said, beginning to limp off towards the medic and mess tents.

She sighed, watching him walking away."Red Cross, here we come," she muttered, following behind him.

* * *

The walk to the other side of town had more than doubled the strain on House's leg, but they managed to make it there. North of the volunteer tents was a large red and white Ford E-350, donned with a large red cross symbol on the side, along with the words 'Disaster Relief.' Volunteers rushed around like headless chickens, ignoring the two civilians standing nearby.

Cameron slowly tried to approach one of the women. "Excuse me," she said, hesitantly holding her arm out to gently tap her on the shoulder. "Ma'am?"

The woman ignored her, leaving her feel nervous.

As she saw another one rushing past her, Cameron tried to get her attention, instead. "Excuse me. Excuse me!" Once again, she was treated like a ghost.

House couldn't stand to watch such a pitiful scene any longer and brought his fingers up to his mouth, parting them into the creases of his lips. One loud wolf-whistle was all it too to get them all to stop what they were doing long enough to see who was being whistled at-and by whom. Cameron blushed as all eyes turned to her and her attention-seeking partner.

"Hi," she stammered, "we're looking for the person in charge, please."

"That would be me," said a middle-aged brunette, throwing bottles of water into a cooler. Closing the lid, she shuffled over to them. "What can I do for you?"

"Depends. What's your hourly rate?" House quipped. Cameron was far from amused and facially relayed that message perfectly to House. He shrugged apologetically and starting taking interest in the cooler and anything else that could hold his attention for the time being.

"We need help," begged Cameron.

The woman smiled. "Well, you've come to the right place. We do what we can." She held her hand out to Cameron. "Rebecca Charles. And you are?"

"Nauseous," House snorted in annoyance, earning him a dangerous look from Cameron and a confused and worried look from his new acquaintance.

"Are you sick?" she asked innocently.

"Getting there," he mumbled.

"Allison Cameron," she replied, shaking her hand. She let go of it and pointed next to her. "And this is Greg House."

Rebecca's nice and friendly demeanor turned grim and hostile at the mention of his name. "I see," she said, glaring at him.

He smirked. "I take it you've heard of me."

"Indeed," she sniped, her frown deepening.

He squinted at her, pausing to figure out where he might've met her from. Charles...Charles... Suddenly, the answer popped into his head, a grin forming on his face. "Any relation to Dr. T.B Mediawhore?"

"House!" Cameron admonished, smacking him in the arm.

"Never heard of him. I am, however, related to a very noble humanitarian. Dr. Sebastian Charles."

"Noble humanitarian...hypocritical human telethon...same difference. How much does he pay you to worship him?"

"My brother is not a hypocrite! He works very hard, everyday, to save people's lives," she said, receiving an understanding nod from Cameron. "

"Did you know that every minute that passes-" she said, starting to recite statistics she's heard from her sibling the last time they spoke.

House waved her off. "Yeah, yeah, four people die from untreated T.B. We heard this the first time around and now that I've heard it, yet again, I still don't have the urge to call in my donation to Jerry's Kids." He dramatically sniffled and wiped an imaginary stray tear from his cheek. "Poor little rug rats."

"Those children have muscular dystrophy, not T.B."

He arched a brow at her. "Are you implying that T.B. kids are better than crippled kids?"

"House..." Cameron warned.

"If the disease fits..." Rebecca retorted. She knew it was lame, but who cares? So was this conversation!

It was time for someone to break this up. Cameron slid her thin frame between the two and smiled at Rebecca. "Okay. Differences aside, we were wondering if you could help us. We came here as volunteers-"

House interrupted her by clearing his throat. "She's volunteering, I'm vacationing."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes and continued, "Anyway, we had to hitchhike down here because our vehicle died. Now we're stuck here with no place to go and no way to get there."

Rebecca shook her head. "Well, I sympathize with your situation, I really do..." she sighed, "but I've got strict orders to not leave my post. We're unable to travel anywhere. Have you tried the Greyhound Station?"

House snorted in laughter while Cameron closed her eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Do you know anyone else who could help us?"

She thought for a moment and shook her head. "i just arrived yesterday, so I'm not familiar with anyone else around here. Sorry."

"Alright. Well, thank you." she said, turning around to walk back the way they came.

"Yeah, for wasting our time," House growled, following behind her.

Cameron didn't bother trying to scold him for his last remark. She'd felt slightly bad about the way he was towards the woman, but he was right. She'd wasted their time. Not that she had anything about helping people with T.B., though. She cared about people. It just wasn't helpful to them at the moment. Survival is. Now they were back to where the started. Back to the drawing board- or whiteboard, in this case.

Rebecca shot him one last unappreciative look before turning back to the cooler she was filling, mumbling to herself.

"Now what?" she asked, craning her head behind her shoulder to see his face.

He blew some air from his puffed cheeks. "I don't know."

"Well, you should!" she snapped.

House was more than surprised by her outburst. "Why's that?"

"You know everything! You should be finding us a way home! Heck, go back there and badger her like you do everyone else at work when you want something done!"

He shrugged. "I'm just a more brilliant than average guy, Cameron. You may see me as God, but just bear in mind...I've never made a tree."

"I don't want a tree, House! I want a one-way ticket back to Jersey! I want to curl up and never leave the comfort of my bed ever again!" she rambled.

He reached his hand up to rub the couple-day stubble that had grown in. "Hmm...might make it difficult when you'll have to pee."

"I'll use a catheter," she argued.

He winced. "That is a serious action to take for someone who's simply being lazy. Have you ever actually had a catheter?"

"Not first hand," she replied.

"It's painful," he warned her, remembering the one he'd put in himself.

"I don't have a penis," she smirked. "Less painful for females."

"How would you know when you've never had one?"

"I've given them for patients of both anatomical statures. The man almost cried, the woman shifted in slight discomfort."

"What will you do when you get bored?" he wondered.

"I'll read."

"What will you eat?"

"I'll starve."

"You'll die," he pointed out.

"Rather then and there than here and now," she sulked.

"You're not going to die," he assured her.

"You don't know that," she told him.

"Huh!" he huffed at her. "I know everything!"

"What makes you so sure?" she challenged.

"Because," he said as a matter-of-factly. "I won't let you."

Inside, she felt herself swell slightly with happiness over the protective nature he held on her, but it calmed once more when her thoughts turned to the moment's situation. "You may not have a choice," she explained, sadly.

He felt something inside of him snap. The next thing he knew, his hand was cupping her face softly and held her gaze with his penetrating eyes, repeating her earlier words back to her. "There's always a choice."

She nodded, not really sure what else to say as he brushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it gently behind her ear.

"**_Especially_** if it involves a giant, plastic tube to the penis," he added, his face forming a completely serious grimace.

She let out a small half-smile and laughed silently, placing her hand delicately over his and reveling in the warmth her brought over her.

She looked up into his face and was quickly reminded of all of the things she loved about him. Her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck and pulled his head down to hers, crushing her lips into his.

It was different than the last one; not hurried or forced. It was welcomed and reciprocated.

Loving and graceful.

Passionate and meaningful.

Their lips danced together in an orchestrated waltz that seemed to have been known by only the two parties.

Intensely consuming.

As their mouths made love to each other, neither one of them noticed the drop in temperature around them, concealed by the warmth they were generating between themselves.

Darkness rolled in from the south, blanketing the once clear, blue sky.

Lightening streaked rapidly across the sky, lighting up the silhouettes of the clouds.

A lone drop of moisture landed on House's cheek. Thinking it was a tear from Cameron, he pulled away to examine her face.

To his relief, he found no tears. Simply, lazy closed eyes and a smile donning her face.

Then his eyes furrowed. _If she's no crying, then where did that water come from, _he wondered.

"What's wrong?" she asked, noticing his confused-like state.

Shaking his head to push away the fog of a daze he was in, he cleared his head and glance up above them in time to see a bolt of lightning before the ground rumbled from a crash of thunder.

"Rain," he replied dumbly, not trusting himself to attempt to say anything else. Something told him that it would come out as gibberish anyway.

Another rain drop hit his arm, followed by a few landing in his hair. Soon, they were hitting Cameron as well.

Glancing around, they noticed that the tents were gone; everyone had packed up and left. With nothing to huddle under, they searched for the nearest structure they could take refuge in. It appeared the only thing available was a large cream colored building with a giant glass dome on the side. Even though the glass seemed like the least safest place to be around, it was better than being drowned at the moment.

House grabbed Cameron's hand and limp-led her down the street towards their only chance of a dry haven.

* * *

Five minutes later, downtown New Orleans was starting to look grim. In such a short amount of time, the weather had shifted as if God himself had decided he'd had enough of the city and it was time to bring back that flood.

With every step, it seemed like the rain poured down that much harder and the wind was picking up fast.

As they neared it by, give or take, twenty feet, the sheets of raindrops had obscured their vision, almost blinding the building before them. The kept walking forward, hoping that their visibility would clear up long enough to glance at their destination.

Stumbling blindly in front of them, House stumbled as the tip of his shoe hit solid concrete, verifying that they'd made it to the front steps of the structure. They cautiously climbed up the stairs and found the front glass paned doors of the building to be locked.

"Idiots!" he yelled.

"What?" Cameron asked, unable to hear him over the heavy rainfall.

"Morons locked the doors," he yelled towards her, not really sure if she heard him this time.

"What do we do now?" she hollered, hoping that hiding behind a concrete column wasn't their only option left.

Their thoughts were rudely interrupted by a rumble of thunder that, was so loud, it shook the ground beneath them.

Cameron instinctively drew closer to House's side, tightening her grip on his hand as they were still clasped together.

A strong, sudden gust of wind howled through the street, bending palm trees and sending garbage cans rolling down the sidewalks. The noise of the impact of them as they collided into obstacles heightened their levels of worry.

Through pauses in the wind, House swore he could hear something faint. It sounded like a high pitched whine of some sort. When the howling sound wound down and rose up again, it busted his theory of possibly hearing things.

"House?" Cameron shouted. "House, what-"

Her mouth snapped shut as she heard it too. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she whipped her head around to confirm that he heard it too.

His rare look of worry said it all.

Warning Sirens.

_Was this it? Was this the end of the line for them? Did everything they amount to come down to this moment determining their outcome for them? _he wondered.

"Greg?" Cameron yelled, breaking him out of his cogitation.

Breaking from his thoughts, he nodded, knowing this was a time for action, not contemplating their options. "Come on!" he yelled, leading her back towards the foggy

street.

"What?!" she exclaimed, pulling back, resisting to follow his lead. "What are you doing?"

He growled inside at her stubbornness. "We've got to find a way inside!"

"House! We can't go back out there, we'll be, literally, blown away!" she argued.

"We have to get inside!" he repeated adamantly.

"But, House, we can't-"

"Do you trust me?" he asked, demanding to know.

Cameron froze in place, unsure of his meaning behind what he just asked her. "What?"

"I said, do you trust me?" he repeated, not realizing he was putting his heart out on the line with such a simple question.

Of course she trusted him! With her life! What kind of stupid question was that? She nodded, using all of her emotions to answer, "Yes!"

Inside, he was bursting with joy, but glancing around he decided that he would take the time to smile later. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Then you have to trust me on this. Let's go!"

This time, Cameron put her trust in him into action and allowed herself to be drug down the stairs and around to the side of the building. Rain pelted in their faces as they trudged through the storm.

As luck would have it, House found a back door that, with the help of his slick, plastic credit card, allowed them access into the dark, dry building.

Cameron pushed hard on the door to make sure it latched closed.

Regaining their breaths, they felt around in the dark, in search of a source of light.

The wall was smooth and cold, like a wall of glass. She moved her hands up and down the wall for any sign of a switch.

"Cameron?" House asked, searching for her through the dark.

"I'm right he-" Cameron began to reply, but was startled and sent into a blood-curdling scream. Lightning struck outside, lighting up skylight and in turn the wall she was searching, revealing the horror in front of her.

* * *

Reviews, please!! I know, cliffie. Sorry. More Hameron love to come with a review proof of purchase!


	36. I Fear, My Dear, This Ain't A Warning!

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! Here's the next chapter! Also, I posted another Hameron story called: The Cripple, The Carebear and The Amputee. It's my contribution for Halloween. Hope you like it! Danielle Lynne

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four

_**I Fear, My Dear, This Ain't A Warning...**_

Cameron's scream pierced through silence and reverberated loudly throughout the hall. She froze in fear before stumbling backwards, trying to get as far away from the wall as possible.

House, assuming that she needed to be comforted from the scare, rested his hands on her shoulders. Cameron jumped, yelping in fright at the contact and started to back away, momentarily forgetting that he had been standing behind her the whole time.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, retracting his hands like he touched something extremely hot and holding up his arms in surrender. "It's me, Cam. It's me."

She stopped and took in the situation.

_Door closing...wall...lightning...Teeth!_

_Lots and LOTS of teeth!_

_Got to get away..._

_AH! Something is touching me!_

_Breathe, it's just House._

_Wait...House?_

Her eyes bulged. _Oh, no! House!_

Embarrassed at the show she must have displayed for him, but not enough to hide from him, she dropped her head and ran towards him.

"Oof!" he let out as she collided into him, burying her blushing cheeks into his chest, attempting to regain her composure once again. "Careful! Cripple, remember?"

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"You would be," he scoffed, playing it off as no big deal.

"What was that?" she asked, peeking behind her to see if it was still there, looking as if it were ready to pounce.

"That, my dear," he said, flipping on a light switch he'd found behind him and pointing to the wall of terror, "is the hungry glare of Teethus Maximus, or as I have appropriately named in in the last ten seconds, Jaws."

The hungry shark waded in a predatory pace, back and forth in front of the glass pane, wishing the glass would disappear so he could have a nice bite to eat.

"Well...what's he doing here?" she demanded with a slight whine. House was surprised to actually find himself amused at her tone. Cameron was so professional all of the time, so when he heard her childish exclamation, it was far from what he was used to hearing.

"Probably wondering what we're doing here," he chuckled.

"Funny," she glared at him.

He shrugged."I thought so."

"But where's _here_?"

"I think we're in the worst dimension of Hell," he cringed, taking in the rest of the room's sterilized atmosphere. "It looks like a cross between Exam Room One and the morgue."

She gave him a questioning look.

"What? You can't honestly think that Stan's room is my only hiding spot. I have to go elsewhere when he get visitors."

"Well, I'm sure he enjoys the peace and quit time he gets when you're away, actually doing your job," she teased.

"Hey! You don't know what you're talking about! Stan and I are bestest buds."

She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. "Oh, really?"

"Yup. I even like him better than Wilson," he lied.

"Why? Because you can treat Stan however you want and he just lays there and takes it."

"Well, he doesn't really have much of a choice, now does he?" he said, grinning mischievously. "And yes, that's one of the reasons."

"What's the biggest one?" she asked, curious to his response.

"He listens to me," he stated simply.

Cameron snorted. House looked at her and frowned. "What? What's so funny?"

She started to giggle, but soon it turned into a full-fledged laughing attack.

House started to have a hard time keeping his straight face the more he mentally repeated what he'd said. He knew he said it and he meant to. He though of it as his way of lightening the mood. When her chuckles died down into giggles once again, she turned to connect her eyes with his. Upon connection, the corner of his mouth rose upward and his hard stare turned easy and relaxed.

As much as they were both genuinely enjoying the enlightened moment that came over them, Cameron was the first to break the gaze to examine the room more thoroughly. It looks like some sort of veterinarian clinic."

House nodded in agreement. "And judging by Jaws in the fish tank for a wall, I'm guessing...giant aquatic aquarium." Scanning the room, he discovered some brochures fanned out on top of a nearby table. He picked one up and started to skim through it.

"We're standing in 'The Audubon Nature Institute's Aquarium of the Americas'."

"Do you think he could break through that glass?" Cameron asked nervously, trying to win the staring match she found herself in with the famished carnivore.

"Sure...if the glass wasn't two feet thick and made out of fiberglass."

Impressed by his answer, she turned around to face him. "How do you know that?"

"I know all," he boasted cockily.

She narrowed her eyes. "And?"

"And...it might've been printed in this brochure," he said, waving it in his hand.

"What else does said brochure have to say? Perhaps what that thing is? What it eats? Where we are? Is there a map or diagram of this place?" she inquired, trying to get a better look at the paper flying back and forth.

"Maybe," he teased, pulling the paper to his chest and turning around to keep her from seeing it.

She walked around to stand in front of him to get a better look, but House was quick and raised the paper high above his own head. He grinned as he watched her jump up a few times, trying to snatch it from his grasp. Failing, she gave up, crossed her arms and huffed at him in frustrated disappointment.

"What's wrong, Shorty?" he taunted her.

"Come on, House...I just want to see it," she reasoned.

"I don't think your _little girly mind_ could wrap around all of this big kid information," he joked patronizingly.

She dropped her arms and connected her hands timidly behind her back. Her eyes widened and her lower lip jutted out into one of the most pitiful sulk he's ever seen. To top it off, she let out a quiet wounded puppy whimper.

He frowned. "Aw! Now, come on! You know that doesn't work on me."

Not letting up, she intensified with a quiver to her lip.

"Fine. Here," he groused, handing her the paper in his hand. "I'm only doing it because you looked so pathetic and I didn't want you to break down and start crying or anything."

Cameron smiled triumphantly and squealed slightly. "Thank you," she smugly added. Glancing at the pamphlet, her smile turned upside as she noted it wasn't the same thing he was holding before. "Hey!"

"What?" he asked, looking about as innocent as a three year old caught in the act.

She gripped the bottom of it tightly and held it up. "_This _is not it."

"It's what I had in my hand" he said, defensively.

"No...this is a "Our Salt Water Friends" coloring book!" she said, looking at him pointedly, smacking it into his chest.

He grabbed it before it could fall to the floor and gave a slight affirmative nod. "Which _was_ in my hand. It just happened to be my _other _hand." He flipped through the book. "Look at that! Your human-hungry friend over there is a Sandtiger Shark. It says they're not considered aggressive unless provoked." He looked at Cameron teasingly. "Did you provoke the shark, Cameron?"

"No! If anything, he startled me."

"I'll bet you did! Did he get tired of talking about his feelings toward the cute little female in the next tank over?"

Cameron ignored his remark this time and growled in frustration. "Does it eat humans?"

Negative. It feasts it's razor sharp teeth on mackerel, other sharks and rays, squids, lobsters and crabs."

He smirked. "There's an STD joke in there somewhere, I just know it."

She pointed to his hand. "Does it have a map?"

He flipped open the book. "Don't think so. But it's got a nice outline of a starfish on a coral reef you can shade in."

"House! You know what I meant!"

"I choose to pretend to be ignorant to that fact."

"Why?"

"Because you're really hot when you're mad," he grinned evilly.

She looked at him incredulously. "What?"

House starting limping closer to her. "Yeah...your hands ball up into fists, your cheeks get all red and you clench. When you're really ticked off, mostly at me, your whole body clenches, your hands go to your sides and you get this murderous stare that sometimes makes me wish I wore a cup - and not just to work. You've been known to show up at my door step a few times. Not that I'm complaining, but next time, go with something a little more..."

"Provocative?" Cameron suggested, not moving.

"I was going to say Cuddy-ish, but you know, either way you say it, it means the same thing. "

Cameron felt a dark blush starting at her neck and creeping up to her cheeks, but challenged him with her eyes. "Why? So you can have your lobby art look the way you want?"

He took a final step forward until they were an inch away from touching noses. Cameron felt a bit lightheaded as his breath gently hit her face. "I think they'd look a lot better on my bedroom floor."

She gasped, feeling the air hitch in her throat. He lingered before her, looking like he could take the rest of her breath away in one simple pass of his lips. Once he was satisfied that she desperately wanted him with closed eyes and barely pouted lips, he pulled back and opened the map, holding it dead in front of her face.

Opening her eyes, she jumped back at the sight of a diagrammed map greeting her instead of House's soft lips and rugged stubble. She grunted at leaving her hanging like that. She scolded herself for falling for that. Of course he would pull something that insensitive - he's House!

She quickly snatched it from his hands and turned around to look at it, mumbling a short string of obscenities under her breath. Before she could locate the room they were currently in, the room went dark.

"Aw, great!" she complained. "What on earth could possibly go-"

"Ah ah ah!" warned House, "Don't even finish that sentence. You know as well as I do that considering where we are and what's go on that everything could go terribly wrong."

"Yeah, well," she barked, "I can't see a darn thing!"

House grabbed her and turned her around to face him. "Good," he replied before hungrily assaulting her lips with his. Taken completely off guard, she dropped the map and linked her hands behind his head, pulling him closer to her.

With a moan of immense appreciation and encouragement, House used his tongue to gently glide over her bottom lip, seeking permission to slip inside of her mouth. A tiny gasp emitted from Cameron's mouth from the surprise of his request. In her way of giving her consent, she parted her lips and used her tongue to dive into his mouth and seek out his.

The sweet smell of sweat, pheromones and Old Spice circled her, consuming her senses and sparking them alive as his ingrowing stubble raked across her chin and the sides of her cheeks. She ran her soft tongue against his and chills ran down her spine and throughout her body.

When she started to participate in this kiss, he used his lips to kiss her hard, signaling it was about to end, and slowly pulled away.

Mystified, and disappointed, she slowly opened her eyes to see him grinning smugly at her dazed expression, her mouth handing slightly open.

"What do you say we get out of here and raid the fridge in the Employee's Lounge? I'm starving!"

She nodded, unable to form a single coherent sentence, fuelling House's self-contentment.

He took a look at the map and found the documented door across the room.

Approaching it, he opened it and stopped half-way through the threshold. He looked over his shoulder and meaningfully at Cameron, making sure to lock eyes with her. "Ready?"

It was a double entendre coming from House.

It was meaningful. Commitmentful.

Wonderful.

He was willing to give her something.

She was willing to take anything.

He wasn't promising a thing.

She wasn't asking for marriage or kids or even a white picket fence. Just a chance.

The same exact thing he wanted.

Cameron shook her head as she followed him through the door and into unknown territories. But that was alright.

She liked wrought iron fences better anyway.


	37. Now I'm Lookin' Up & It Keeps Comin!

Chapter Thirty-Five

_**Now I'm Lookin' Up and It Keeps Comin'...**_

"Where are we going?" Cameron asked as they walked down the darkened hall.

Unable to see in front of her, she delicately placed one palm against House's back so she wouldn't loose him and another one against the cold glass wall.

"Gee, I don't know. Why don't you check your coloring book?" he snarked.

"House..." she growled.

"How should I know? I'm a lot of truly awesome things, but psychic is not one of them, Cameron...Jeez!" he snapped, instantly regretting it. He shivered at the cold air that overwhelmed him when Cameron retracted her warm hand in a wince.

He sighed and softened his voice, mumbling something resembling an apology. Her hand gradually made contact with him once again, only this time, it wrapped around his forearm, just above his elbow.

Using his cane, he sought out his surroundings before him. A hit to the left indicated a structure in the way.

"Table," he warned her, stepping to the side in order to avoid hitting it.

"Huh?" Suddenly, her knee smacked deeply into the corner of a large wooden table. "Ow!"

"Welcome to New Orleans, Helen Keller," he quipped.

She scolded him. "Not funny. You could've mentioned _where _the table was instead of letting me find out myself."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "more entertaining this way."

"I'm so glad that my pain brings you-" she sneered, before stopping abruptly.

He noticed her hesitation. "What?"

Cameron fumbled around the wall until her hand landed on a cool piece of metal. "There's a door here."

"That leads where? The shark tank?"

"You think it does?" she asked, now too nervous to open it to find what was behind it.

House rolled his eyes and growled in frustration when he remembered she couldn't see it. "C'mon now...think about this. There's a half-inch space under the door. It's not water-lock tight. It's probably Joe's timeshare."

"Who?" she asked.

"Our janitor," he replied in a "you should know" tone of voice. "The one that wears his pants backwards."

"What?!"

"It's true. He's on odd one. Not to mention he's got six toes on his right foot."

"He does not!"

"Evidently you're not as close as you think you two are."

"We're not close. I know his first name and that he works as a janitor. I'd get to know people better," she said, absentmindedly opening the door, "if my boss didn't overwork me so much and gave me time off to actually have a social life!"

Before them was another blackened room.

"Then consider it a favor I did you, especially if the only person on your conversing list is Six-Toe Joe," he grinned, walking past her.

She huffed and followed slowly behind him. Luckily for them there was a window in this room, giving off very little light, but still enough to help them make out larger obstacles in their way.

House felt around the back side of the counter in front of him. "Huh."

"What?" Cameron asked curiously.

"What luck. Tell me Cam, can you see me now?" he grinned as he blinded her with a large ray of light. He delighted in his action upon hearing her squeal and turn her head away.

"Ow! I see you found a flashlight," she said dryly, raising her hands to block the light from her eyes.

He turned the light and focused it around the area he found the lamp in his hand. Behind the counter were shelves stacked full of knickknacks and odds and ends, all animal related. Finding another flashlight, he shined it on the one in his hand, confirming it was also in the shape of a zoo animal.

"Here," he said, tossing it to Cameron.

She caught it, just barely, and ran her fingers over it, looking for the on/off switch. Finding it, she flipped it on and also began to shine it around the room, discovering what else there was.

Many of the shelves had figurines of animals, souvenir cups, hats, stuffed animals, t-shirts and disposable cameras; personalized with animals on them. There was film, sweatshirts, guidebooks, postcards, jewelry, candy, one of those presses that turns pennies into elongated tokens to remind you of where you've been and last, but not least, a candy wall. Definitely not your healthiest choice, but if you haven't eaten for a while, unhealthy is better than nothing.

"Cameron, give me your backpack," he ordered.

"What? No!" she insisted, subconsciously clinging to the backpack she'd forgotten that she'd had on her back for security. "Get your own!"

"I have my own. It's in Mississippi along with my hot rod. Now throw me the bag," he insisted, reaching out his arm to take it.

"No, use a different one!"

"Where am I going to find another one?" he growled exhaustively.

She walked over to one of the shelves and pulled one from the bunch, tossing it to him.

When he caught it, he swore it was a stuffed animal, not a bag. Upon further inspection, he was appalled to see that not only was it both of those things, but it was, House gulped, _cute_.

"Oh, no!" He protested. "Too sissified. Throw me yours and you can have this one."

"Not a chance. It's either the cute little backpack or nothing," she smirked.

He had to hand it to her, she was good.

"But...Mo-om! It's a girl backpack!" he whined.

She shrugged. "Than look around for something else."

"Fine," he grumbled, opening the bear's side and making his way towards the candy rack.

"What are you doing?" Cameron asked, watching House grab handfuls of cavity-causing rocks of sugar and stuffing them into the bag.

"Stuffing the turkey," he replied sarcastically.

"It's a bear," she corrected him.

"Whatever," he said, trying to zip his side back up, pushing all the contents around to work with the zipper.

"I'll ask again; what are you doing?"

"I'm getting him ready for hibernation," he quipped. At the roll of her eyes, he continued, becoming serious. "We have no food. If there's a fridge somewhere in this place, the food in it's going to be in the same condition here than it was at Stacy's place. No food edible in there. Although, if we're ever in the need of penicillin, we're overstocked."

"So, we're going to live off of gummy bears and animal crackers for the rest of the week?"

"Unless you know a five-star restaurant that's still open, yeah," he said, stuffing another one he'd grabbed from the shelf.

She nodded, understanding that they would have to deal with the cards they'd been dealt.

"Okay," said House, slinging the animal backpacks over his shoulder, "you ready?"

Cameron was trying so hard not to laugh at the sight before her. Not trusting herself enough to say anything, she nodded and followed him out the door.

"We need to find a bathroom," she informed him.

"Can't hold it, huh?" he teased.

"Not for too much longer," she confessed, blushing at the embarrassment that washed over her.

"What's the map say?" he asked.

She pulled the brochure from her pocket and looked at it closely.

According to this, it should be..."

"Straight ahead and to the right?" House answered.

Cameron looked at him in disbelief. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I didn't. But I _can_ read," he said pointing to an arrowed directional sign suspended from the ceiling in front of them.

She smacked him playfully in the chest and ran up ahead, proving just how bad she really had to go. A few minutes later, she emerged, feeling like a new person as House hurriedly pushed past her to also relieve himself.

* * *

After House had emerged, they decided to continue looking around the building. Down the hall and a little to the right, they found themselves on the opposite side of the glass door that kept them from their safe haven not long ago. Cameron walked up to them, staring in awe as the rain continued to slam down onto the earth in sharp sheets and everything that wasn't bolted down to the ground was being blown away. She watched as the world before her began to deteriorate.

"Hey, don't stand so close to those doors! What are you tryin' to do, get yourself killed?" he snapped.

Cameron spun around, expecting House to have an irritated and snarky look on his face. However, his attempt at casual sarcasm died when he couldn't bring himself to be angry. The only feeling he had coursing through him was the feeling of sympathy and hopelessness. She nodded and with her head hanging low, she backed away from the glass panes and lightly stepped over to House's side.

"I wonder if the elevator still works," he quipped, hoping to brighten her up a bit.

She snorted. "Not with our luck."

"True," he sighed. "I suppose I'm going to have to endure blinding pain up those stairs. I hope you're happy."

She knew he was only joking, but when they thought of the reality of the situation they faced, she looked up at him sadly. "Seeing you in pain never makes me happy, House."

Seeing that his mood-lightening plan had been foiled, he nodded and limped over to the bottom stair of the staircase. Hooking his cane at his right elbow, he grabbed the railing to his right and waited.

Cameron nudged her shoulder underneath his left hand and they slowly, carefully and, for House, painfully made their way to the second floor landing.

* * *

A quick walk around the higher floor turned out to be most disappointing and also pretty depressing.

There were several displays lining the walls, most of which once held some form of aquatic life. The stingrays that once swam around in a small open tank in front of an wall lined with information about them, now floated lifelessly on the top of the water.

As they kept walking, they came upon a stage used for a sea otter show that had once been put on several times a day. Cameron frowned at the lack of sea otters, hoping they were able to find a safe refuge.

The same went for the rest of the exhibits that lined the walls. There were also missing penguins and the unfortunate floatings of some drowned frogs and seahorses. While everything looked to be unhelpful, a few steps later they discovered the Food Court.

"Finally!" House remarked, limping double-time behind the counter.

Pushing the sad thoughts of all the animals aside, Cameron approached the counter and sat on a bar stool in front of it, watching him rummaging behind it. "Find anything?"

"Nothing edible," he replied, swinging cabinets open and pulling drawers. He hesitantly opened a mini-fridge under the counter and shined his flashlight around in it. Fortunately, it was filled with non-perishable beverages like bottled spring water and Gatorade.

"BINGO!" he exclaimed, leaning down to grab them from the lukewarm cooler.

"You found a dog in there?" she joked lightly, hoping there wasn't REALLY a dog in there, knowing it wouldn't be a live one.

"Nope, no Chinese food in here. Here's some electrolytes in a bottle, though," he said, tossing the bottle to Cameron.

Catching the drink, she quickly opened it, took a sip just large enough to hydrate her palate, and closed it again, putting it in her backpack. "Here," House said, noticing her sharp survival instincts in play, he threw her a couple more. "You can down one while we're here. There's plenty."

She caught them, slightly squealing in surprise at them falling from the air, straight towards her. Once she held them in her hands, she looked to him in appreciation, which he seemed to convey back as well. For a few moments, they held each other's eyes in a powerful, emotional gaze. It was more than just a look of thanks and the other knew that too.

Finally, when it became too much to handle, Cameron shouldered off her backpack once more and placed the unopened drinks safely inside for later.

House searched the rest of the bar, grabbing a few found snack bars and condiment packets, and walked out from behind the counter to share in his discovery.

Cameron looked down into the palm of his hand at what he was able to scrounge up. She rose her eyebrow at the sight. "I think we could live a few more days on the barbecue, ketchup, mustard and honey sauces, but salt and pepper?"

He shrugged. "For seasoning."

She arched her brow higher. "Seasoning?"

He nodded. "Right. For seasoning our seasonings."

She nodded, smiling at his reasoning, throwing her arms up in the air. "Well, _now_ it all makes sense!"

He grinned when he realized how stupid the conversation had turned. "Of course! We can't eat normal, bland seasonings. That's so lame."

"I like lame," she grinned.

After a momentary pause, in which he heard Wilson mention the same words, he smirked. "Good, cuz that's all we've got to choose from."

Cameron laughed and shook her head. House soaked in the feeling of the moment. He made her laugh and it was a great feeling to be able to make his duckling happy. He only wished he could do it more often and not seem like he was going soft. Then no one would listen to him and he'd loose not only his respect but his reputation too! He couldn't have that.

"So," he said, grabbing her attention, "let's see if we can find ourselves a spot to have a nice 'Caffeine and Sugar' picnic".

Cameron's breath hitched in her throat as she felt House's warm, strong hand slide down her back to rest over the small of her back. Physical contact. He wasn't very big on PDA, but if there was no public involved, then there seemed to be no problem. In fact, it seemed he was a different person away from work. He was more...tolerable and, almost unbelievably, less sarcastic. Lowering her head, she smiled and starting walking off in the direction he pushed towards.

Down the hall, they came upon a special exhibit called "The Amazon Rain forest". Curious, they pulled out their flashlights and walked through the door.

Inside was a beautiful two-story atrium, covered in tropical trees, rock formations, and structures made from tree branches.

"C'mon," House motioned, walking along the slanted wheel-chair accessible concrete pathway that wound down into the wooded area.

"House," Cameron called nervously, "I don't know...there's a lot of glass in here."

He looked up at the glass-paned ceiling. "Yeah, I know. It'll hold," he reassured her as he kept walking.

Cameron hesitantly stepped away from the door, shining her flashlight all around to get a better grasp of her surroundings. After noticing House's almost complete absence, she ran down the path to catch up to him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"House?" she called, shining her light around, looking for any sign of movement. "House, where are you?"

When her calls were met with silence, she began to panic. She was lost in a jungle surrounded by a glass dome in the middle of a hurricane. _Boy_, she thought, _when it rains, it DOES pour! _Hearing a faint rustling behind her, she whipped around to see moving plant leaves, but nothing else.

"Greg?" she squeaked, quietly.

The plant's movements stopped short and fear began to overwhelm Cameron. Slowly, she stepped forward and kneeled down. Shining her light at the fern and reaching out her other hand, she began to move the fern's branch out of the way when she was met by two blood-red eyes.

Cameron shrieked loudly and fell backwards onto her butt, frantically scrambling to get away when she felt something grasp onto her arm. She screamed at the contact and dropped her flashlight, wanting desperately to get away, but whatever had a hold of her was strong and unrelenting. Searching for her light source, she fumbled around in the dark around the ray of light that was beaming into the distance. Finding it, she grabbed ahold of it and shined it on her shoulder. The heavy source of weight was a human hand with four large fingers draping over the front of her shirt. Still terrified, she shined it behind her in the direction of the hand's origin.

"Agh!" the man growled, releasing the grip on her. Taking this opportunity, Cameron scrambled a little ways back up the pathway, far enough to make an escape if she had to, but still close enough to face her attacker.

"Get that light outta my face!" he grumbled, his hands blocking his eyes.

Finding comfort in the words as they left his mouth, Cameron ran straight for him, almost tackling him at the waist and clung onto him as if her life depended on it. "Jeez, House! What are you trying to do, put me in cardiac arrest?"

"What's got you in a frenzy? See a monster? Or a ghost? Or Chase?" he smirked at his own joke.

Cameron ignored his last comment. "There were evil eyes! They were red and glowing and it was horrible!"

Raising his eyebrow, he ran his flashlight around them. "Oh, Cuddy's here?"

She fought hard not to laugh at his surprised and amused tone. Not finding her reason for being so frightened as hilarious as he seemed to, she punched him in the shoulder, without looking up or moving to do so. She wanted to get him back, but not at the expense of leaving the safe haven that was the manly, musk-scented area between his neck and shoulder.

"Ah!" he complained as he retracted his arm in slight pain. "Okay, okay. Where is it?"

She turned her head to the side, long enough to see where to point.

"Over there," she said, pointing to the dreaded fern.

"Ok, c'mon, let's go check it out," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him.

"No!" she insisted, pulling back.

He sighed. "Fine, you big baby."

Walking towards the fern, he used his cane to push the palm away and revealed the beady, bloody-red eyes that scared Cameron so much and stared at it in disbelief. "Oh, no!"

Cameron's eyes grew wide. "What? What is it?"

"It's...It's..." he stammered.

"What?" Cameron practically screamed.

"It's grotesquely cute," he glowered, staring at the ground.

Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows furrowed, looking first at House, then at the fern, then back at House again. "What?"

"I can't believe you were scared of THAT!"

Unable to fathom what could have evil eyes, and still be labeled 'cute', by House no less, she walked closer to House, still keeping her distance from the plant. Peering closer, her eyes laid upon her terrorist. Suddenly, uncontrollable laughter began to well up inside of her until she couldn't contain it any longer. She laughed so hard, her stomach muscles were starting to feel the burn.

"And...you've finally lost it," he quipped, shaking his head in disbelief.

Cameron folded her arms in front of her, bent over in hysterics. "It's a...a...a-" she stammered between laughs.

"It's a frog, Cameron. Technically, it's a Red-Eyed Tree Frog. Say it with me; Fur-awe-guh!" he sounded out, as if teaching a child the word.

With her laughter finally calming to a stifled giggled, she looked back down at the creature and back up at House, biting her lower lip. "He is pretty cute," she admitted.

House rolled his eyes and turned around, starting to walk away. "First he's terrifying, now he's adorable," he mumbled.

She ran to catch up with him. When she joined his pace and settled next to him, she smiled and looked up at him in a shy-like manner. "You were too, you know."

He looked sideways at her using his peripheral vision, but kept a straight face. "Come again?"

"You used to be terrifying. But now, you're no longer scary and I would say you're-"

"Don't you _dare _use the word adorable to describe me," he warned.

She grinned wider. "Why?"

"Because Gregory House is NOT adorable! Abrasive? Totally. Brilliant? Absolutely. Sexy? Devilishly. Mischevious? I have my moments. Sarcastic?"

"Understatement of the year," Cameron finished for him.

He looked over at her and the corner of his mouth lifted a bit. "See? Now, you're catching on."

As they walked a little further, they came to a clearing with a man-made waterfall. Though the power had gone out, leaving the waterfall's motor nonfunctional, one of the panes of the glass ceiling had busted out, letting the natural rain water fall in, simulating an actual Amazonian Rainstorm.

Next to it was a structured hut with a bench underneath, perfect for a break from standing or walking.

House propped his cane against the wall and sat down, fishing in his bear backpack for something he felt like eating. Cameron sat her bag on the bench, pulled out her drink, and hoisted it back upon her shoulders. Finding a couple of Twinkies, House pulled them out of their wrappers and began to scarf them down, chasing them down with water. He brought the bottle from his lips and gazed over at Cameron who was a few feet ahead, taking in the atmosphere.

"What absolute beauty," she breathed, trailing the plant life with her light.

"Yeah," House agreed, not referring to the vegetation, but rather to his companion. If Cameron heard or understood him, she didn't show it as she continued to gaze around.

A large gust of wind hit the glass dome, rattling the window panes and shaking everything in it. A large metal sign that was suspended from the ceiling swung two and fro. As another gust of wind hit it, one of it's cable's snapped, causing Cameron and House to look towards the sky. Shining their lights, they were unable to make out what was going on, since their flashlight beams didn't go much further than twenty feet. Spinning around from the wind, the remaining cable tightened as it twisted, growing weaker by the second. Finally, it could hold no longer and fell straight for the ground.

"Lookout!" Cameron cried, pushing House out from under the shelter and out of the sign's path. House fell to the ground as the metal sign crunched upon contact with the concrete pathway, separating the two.

"Cameron?" House called out, but was drowned out by the aftermath of the shattered sign settling. "Allison!"

* * *

Okay, so, that was a longer chappy because I know it's been awhile since I updated. Ah, but I've gotten a new gust of creative wind, so please tell me what you think! Like it? Review, please! It fuels my creative wind gust.

Danielle Lynne

* * *


	38. Like Shootin' Ducks In A Barrel Of Honey

Chapter Thirty-Six

_**Like Shootin' Ducks In A Barrel Of Honey…**_

_Back at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital…_

Cuddy straightened her clothes as best as she could, trying to look as presentable as possible, despite the lack of sleep and food she'd had in the last few days. She grabbed her prepared meeting minutes, downed a quick paper cup of water from her cooler and emerged from her office and towards the lecture hall.

For the state of New Jersey, Hurricane Katrina had affected its people very little, but to those at Princeton-Plainsboro, news spread like wildfire and for some, their lives were practically spent living and breathing the news.

Clearing her throat, Lisa pushed open the speaker's entrance door and ascended the stage. To her surprise, her audience was more than slightly large; every chair was filled and the surrounding walls were lined with anxious doctors, co-workers and family members. She swallowed hard at the sight, but beamed with pride, knowing and appreciating everyone's concern for two people who she'd grown to become so close to.

She approached the podium and took out her notes before addressing the crowd. When she looked up to speak, her words caught in her throat when she noticed a little girl in the front row, holding up a sign that read "Please come home, Aunt Allie!" She felt tears stinging her eyes at the thought of neither one of them making it home to ever see it. She lowered her head and pushed back her tears, struggling to put her strong mask back on.

Not one person spoke in the entire room. It was eerily silent; much like that of a funeral. As she regained her professional composure, she glanced up once again to see every set of hopeful and worried eyes boring into her. Taking a deep breath, she gave the people the warmest smile she could, trying not to let the sadness show in it. _Ok, Lisa, first thing's first…introduction._

"Good evening and Welcome to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I am Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine."

_Alright, that was good. Now to thank people for coming and fill them in on who House and Cameron are and why they're sitting here listening to your boring speech…_

"First off, I'd like to thank everyone for taking the time to come here tonight."

Word by word, she began to feel more confident.

"You've either been called here because you are a relative, friend or co-worker to Dr. Allison Cameron or Dr. Gregory House. For those of you who are unaware of the current situation, I'd like to take a few moments to bring you up to speed."

_Ok, give 'em a little background._

"Dr. Gregory House is our Certified Head of Diagnostics here at PPTH who specializes in Infectious Diseases and Nephrology. Dr. Allison Cameron is currently interning in a fellowship under Dr. House and specializes in Immunology."

_Ok, now lay the bad news on them._

"As most of you may know, not long ago, Hurricane Katrina tore through a good part of the U.S.'s southern states. Many people have traveled down south to help out with cleaning and rebuilding a lot of the damage that was caused. It gives me great pride to say that one of those wonderful and caring souls is our very own Dr. Allison Cameron. Accompanying her, for safety and moral support, is Dr. House."

The room still remained quiet.

"A couple of days ago, we received word from Drs. Cameron and House that they'd arrived in Batesville, Mississippi and would be lodging there for a few days on account of some transportation difficulties they had," she explained.

"What kind of difficulties?" shouted someone in the audience.

The question caught her off-guard. "We were told that they traded rental vehicles somewhere around Illinois and their newly acquired vehicle would need repaired."

"Why did they go to Illinois?" someone else shouted.

"Dr. Cameron stated that there was some required documentation she needed to pick up before making their way down to Louisiana," she answered.

"Dr. Cuddy," said a woman sitting in the front row next to an older gentleman that must've been her husband. Upon closer examination, she realized that the inquirer was none other than Blythe House, Greg's mother. "Where is my son? Is he alright?"

"What about our daughter, Allison?" asked Cameron's mother, also sitting next to her husband. "Is she safe? Of they're in Mississippi, let's go get them!"

At this point, a soft murmur of voices filled the room.

Cuddy understood. These people cared about them, and they wanted answers. They deserved answers. She just hoped she could answer them all. Raising her hands to signal that she needed the noise to calm, she went on to explain.

"Dr. House and Dr. Cameron both found a ride down to New Orleans while their rental car is still in Mississippi, waiting to be repaired. The owner of the garage was nice enough to take them down there. Unfortunately, civilians are not allowed to enter the city at this time, therefore ruining any rescue attempts we seem to be able to make."

"Are they safe?"

Cuddy sighed. "As far as we know, they've both sought shelter from this storm. I don't have any details, but the last time we made contact with them, they were holding up well."

"So, what can we do, now?"

"Pray."

* * *

After the meeting, Cuddy stopped by Wilson's office to speak with him. Finding no one there, she headed over to Diagnostics.

There was Wilson, sitting at House's desk, holding House's giant red and grey tennis ball in his hands, slowly turning it as he sat there in deep thought. The sound of metal against metal and glass caught his attention as she pushed the door open, her ring hitting the steel frame of the door.

She smiled sympathetically at him. "Hungry?"

He smiled back at her, just as sadly. "I can't seem to eat right now. It's too weird going through the line and only paying for meal, sitting down and being able to eat all of it."

She chuckled slightly. "Well, if you miss it that much, I'll gladly let you pay for mine."

He smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I could sit and eat when all I can think about it whether or not they have anything to eat."

"James, I know you're worried. We all are. But you have to eat. Even if it's just a bag of chips."

He nodded. "I know. I just feel so guilty having everything in front of me at my disposal and they could be in the rain with no food, no water, no shelter…"

She walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "We can't think like that. We've got to hope for the best." She could tell that he wasn't about to leave House's office anytime soon. They spent so much time in there; it must've been comforting for him to be in there. "Tell you what," Cuddy bargained, "why don't you turn on the news and I'll find the number for some good take-out? We'll just keep an eye out for them."

Sounding like a better plan as any, Wilson nodded. "That sounds good. But you know what? I've got the China Buffet on speed dial. Why don't I order and you can turn on CNN?"

"Good idea," Cuddy smiled, grabbing House's remote. Turning on the television, she found his television static-filled and jumpy. Beating on the top of it, like she'd seen House do before, she received no better picture quality. "It looks like it's on the fritz."

Wilson looked over at her, watching her beat on it while he waited for someone to pick up the phone. He snapped his fingers. "That's right, I remember now. House's been spending time in the OB/GYN lounge."

Cuddy looked at him, confused.

"Because they have the new plasma in there," he elaborated, before greeting the caller.

Because, oddly enough, that explained everything to her, Cuddy grabbed her cell phone from her lab coat pocket and paged the janitor to House's office.

"What would you like, Lisa?" Wilson asked, holding the microphone end of his cell away from his face.

"Oh! Uh, I'll have the sweet and sour chicken with a side of white rice and two egg rolls."

Wilson nodded, repeating her order to the woman on the receiving end.

"That sounds great. Thank you very much," he said hanging up. "Should be here in about twenty minutes," he told her. She nodded and turned around as the door to the office opened. Joe the janitor stuck his head through the door. "Yes, Dr. Cuddy? What can I do for you?"

"Joe! Would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Not at all, Dr. Cuddy. What is it that I can do for you?" he asked with a smile.

She returned it. "I need the television from the Maternity lounge brought up here."

Joe's eyes widened. "The plasma screen?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"The one on the wall?" he asked, his eyes growing larger.

Cuddy nodded once again. "Is that a problem?"

Joe blew air from his puffed up cheeks. "Well, not with help it's not, but it's not a one-man job. I'll see if I can go find someone to help me."

"If you need assistance, Dr. Foreman and Dr. Chase can help you. I believe they're down there somewhere," Cuddy suggested, sitting down in House's yellow recliner.

"Will do," he said, escaping back out the door.

Wilson turned curiously to Cuddy. "I know this is a pretty far-fetched suggestion, but you could always try actually walking down to the lounge to use the T.V."

She shrugged. "Why go to the lounge when the lounge can come to you?"

He shook his head and grinned. "Lazier words were never spoken."

"I just want to make sure we're notified the moment something happens. This feels like the only way to stay informed. It's the only thing I can think of to do my share of helping them, anyway I can."

"I understand; you don't have to explain your motives to me," he said, rolling House's desk chair across the room and positioning it next to the recliner before collapsing into it.

They both turned as they saw Joe, Foreman and Chase struggling to carry it down the hall, through the conference room and into the office. They set it down for a brief moment.

"Where would you like it, Dr. Cuddy?" Joe asked.

"Uh, let's see," she said, gazing around the room until she found the most suitable spot. "How about there?"

They nodded and sat it down long enough for Joe to install the mounting kit to the wall. When he was finished, Foreman and Chase each grabbed a side and lifted it up, sliding it down the wall until it caught onto the brackets.

"You know you're just going to have to have it hauled back in there later on, right?" Wilson chuckled.

She smiled sadly. "Actually, I think it looks pretty good from where I'm sitting."

"But you won't always be sitting there," he pointed out.

"Yeah," Chase joined in. "If you really wanted it, we could've installed it in your office."

Everyone looked dumbly at Chase, amazed that he hadn't picked up on the fact that she wanted the T.V. to stay in House's office.

"That's alright. I don't watch much television, anyway," she replied, winking at Wilson who looked at her, knowingly.

As everything continued to go over his head, Chase shrugged and began to follow Foreman out of the office.

"Thanks, guys!" Cuddy shouted as the three each went their separate ways. She then leaned over for the remote and turned on the big-screen, flipping channels until she found CNN News. As it had been for weeks on end, the screen was filled with depressing pictures of flooded streets, stranded people, and damage caused by the great storms.

"Is this really all we can do?" Cuddy asked, her chopsticks closing in on a piece of Sweet and Sour Chicken.

Wilson nodded, slurping a long lo mien noodle up over his chin and into his mouth. "You seem to have it covered. You tried to find them a ride and you informed their families and friends. Now, all we can do is watch the news and pray that they're alright. You're all over this, Lisa."

"I wish I could do more."

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly, "but there's several news channels. You can't watch them all at the same time!"

Cuddy raised a brow at him, intrigued by the thought. "Is that a challenge?"

He looked at her in confusion. "Can you?"

She swallowed her mouthful and grinned. "Watch me."

* * *

Within minutes of being on her cell phone, each wing of the hospital had been assigned to keep its lounge television set tuned into a designated news channel. The doctors and nursing staff took turns watching the destruction, looking for any signs of their beloved friends. Well, perhaps just Dr. Cameron.

She hung up and set it down on the side table next to her. Both Wilson and Cuddy surprised each other by sighing. There was nothing else to be done and nothing else they could do. They both watched the screen before them, thinking the same thing.

_Lord, Please let them be alright._


	39. Got To Learn How To Pray

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

**Got To Learn How To Pray**

"Allison?" House yelled, propped up on his elbows.

No answer.

He pulled himself up further, trying to see beyond the destruction, however, not finding any view that would work; he shifted to distribute most of his weight to his left side. The newly added pain to his already injured leg made him flinch, but the adrenaline that was coursing through his body from the fear and worry he was experiencing had dulled it to a slight numbness.

He had no interest in his own welfare; purely Cameron's. He was never one to usually put anyone above himself, but it seems that the past week or so had changed that completely. Deep down, he felt like he should've been putting her before him emotionally, since the day he met her. She was never anything but wonderful to him. Even after all he did and said to her.

He shouted for her again, straining to hear an answer; even the faintest one. He was mostly hoping for a full-fledged sentence, but he'd settle for a moan or cry, even; just something!

"Allison!"

* * *

On the other side of the large pile of debris, Cameron slowly sat up, moaning at the stinging she felt in her hands and knees. It was a painfully raw, road-rash feeling that you become accustomed to as a child after falling off your bike or tripping over something and scraping your skin against the concrete. She could faintly hear House calling for her. Slowly, she sat herself up, whimpering at the pain she felt in her hands and knees.

In her first attempt to answer him, her reply was interrupted by a harsh coughing fit as dust and dirt filled her lungs with every deep breath that she took.

"Allie?" he shouted, half-concerned, half relieved.

After one last throaty cough, she inhaled quickly and gave a good holler across the room.

"House!" she cried out, her voice raspy and hoarse. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he lied quickly, trying to redirect the questions to her and her health. Truthfully, his "bum" leg was killing him and he landed pretty heavily on his arm, but he wasn't going to tell her that, knowing he'd never get any answers to his questions. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine," she replied, distracted by her hurdled surroundings.

"Saying that you'll be fine, insinuates that you're not fine currently," he pressed, hesitant to hear what was really wrong.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself from the shock of what just happened, allowing the facts of the situation to surface for pondering.

"No, I'm physically alright. I'm just a little…dazed at the moment."

"Are you lying?" he asked, his question dripping in skepticism.

"No, I'm fine, House, really," she reassured him.

He accepted this to be the truth for the time being, even though he had a strong feeling that she was emotionally freaking out inside and hiding it, trying to be brave.

"Now what do we do?" she shouted, clumsily staggering to her feet.

"Try to find a way out of here," he answered, looking around to compose an escape plan. Their options were extremely scarce; bound to be time-consuming and possibly difficult. "You're going to have to find a way over here."

Cameron's face fell into a look of frantic worry. "I can't, there's metal blocking the path; it's impossible!"

"Then, go around," he reasoned. She held herself back from commenting on the slight strain in his voice. Agitation in his voice usually indicated he was either preoccupied in deep thought or in pain. By this tone, it sounded like he was in both.

"Alright, we've got to get to each other before we can get out of here," she thought out loud.

"No, just go on. Leave the poor, hopeless cripple behind. I'll just slow you down," he over dramatically lamented.

Cameron frowned. "House…"

"Go get rescued without me, I'll be fine. Just go home, get laid…"

She rolled her eyes. "House…"

"Get married, have kids, get a dog and live your happy care bear life until you're an old, caring, decrepit lady," he rambled.

"Greg!" she snapped, incredibly frustrated with his current attitude towards the situation.

When she heard no reply, she started to panic a bit. She tried again, this time with worry in her voice. "Greg?"

"Yes, dear?" he smirked, earning him a loud sigh from the other side of the rubble.

"Just…stay there. I'll come around and find you," she grumbled.

He grinned, knowing that he won the battle and therefore, didn't have to do anything. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to be attacked by any more viciously delightful animals."

"I'll be right back," Cameron grumbled loudly, rolling her eyes. "Don't go anywhere!"

House snorted. "I'll try to resist the temptation..."

Brushing her pants off, she noticed her backpack lodged in-between two large pieces of steel. She walked up to them and pulled on the shoulder strap until it worked its way loose, sending a large cloud of dust flying.

Hoisting it up and over her shoulder, she picked up her flashlight and headed down the paved trail.

House leaned back down against the cool, dirty pavement and closed his eyes, simply waiting; waiting for a miracle.

* * *

Cameron took a look at her map and sighed. "Okay, let's see here. If I keep going down this path, it should wind downwards and lead me…" she traced the marked trail on her map with her pointer finger, "right back to where we originally started from. Then, all I have to do is retrace our steps and come back down the path we took before that led us here." She refolded her map, stuck it in the side pocket of her backpack and sauntered down the pathway.

Moments later, she approached a door with a sign marked "EXIT", which would've normally been lighted in bright red neon letters. Below the sign were markings on the door, claiming it was an "Emergency Exit Only" and that an "Alarm Will Sound" if the door was to be opened. However, with the lack of electricity, she doubted said alarm would do anything at all. Taking a deep, hopeful breath, she cautiously depressed on the door's metal push pad until it moved enough to crack the door open. As she suspected, the door remained completely silent as she pushed it open and walked through the doorway. She grabbed the chrome handle on the other side and held onto it until it latched closed with a sharp-sounding click.

Shining her light around, she smiled slightly, feeling a little relieved to be in a somewhat familiar area. She turned to her right and started walking down the pitch black hallway. As she started to pick up speed, she was reminded of the obstacles that House intentionally informed her about with slight delay. Before she could stop herself in time, her knee rammed harshly into the infamous table once again; only this time with full speed. Cameron cried out in shock and surprise, yelped in pain, and fell to the floor.

* * *

Even with his eyes closed, it was impossible for House to rest; he was too worried of the possibility of more falling debris or something equally dangerous happening if he wasn't quick enough to respond. His leg wouldn't allow him to sleep either. He figured the only thing he could do while waiting was to occupy his mind with something. He looked around in the dark. _Well_, he thought, _a rousing game of 'I Spy' seems to be a bit impractical at the moment._ He decided to stick with thinking some of his bigger priorities over while he was incapacitated.

_Home. That'd be nice. Never thought I'd miss Princeton and now it's the only place I want to be._ He snorted. _How ironic. Oh, if only I were home_, he thought, letting his eyes droop.

_House sat comfortably on his couch with his feet propped up on his coffee table; one resting atop the other. Grabbing the remote control, he turned on the television and flipped through the channels, stopping on one of his favorite soaps. Resting on his stomach was a big, juicy pickle-free Rueben on a paper plate, and next to his feet was a full, unopened bottle of single-malt scotch with his favorite tumbler sitting next to it._

_As he gnawed on his sandwich and drank his alcoholic beverage of choice, he noticed that there was something missing. Although the T.V. let out an assortment of noises and sounds, he still felt a sense of loneliness. This feeling which used to please him now seemed to only depress him. He took the plate and tossed it lightly over onto the table and grabbed his glass and filled it to the brim. When he was satisfied with its content's level, he sat the bottle back down on the table._

_As he extended his hand out to grab the glass, his fingers had wrapped themselves around another set that had quickly grabbed onto it before he had a chance. Recoiling in surprise, his eyes followed the fingers origin to find them attached to a long, slender arm. As he traveled up the soft looking skin, he finally reached the destination of his challenger's face and was surprised at what he saw._

_Cameron smiled seductively at him, lifting the glass to her face and taking a sip. "You didn't start watching the "L" Word without me, did you?"_

_After a brief pause of hesitation and surprise, he arched a confused brow. "It's not on silent, is it?"_

_She glanced over to the T.V. and back at him. "Nope; guess it must be a repeat."_

_He watched her intently as she tipped her head back and gulped down the rest of his drink._

_"Hey!" he protested, "I might've wanted some of that!"_

_She grinned and grabbed the bottle from the table. "If you want some," she teased, starting to walk off towards his bedroom without looking back, "come and get it."_

_Shell-shocked, he watched the sway of her hips until she disappeared and turned around, taking it all in. He was watching T.V.; feeling a little lonely, he went to grab his scotch, Cameron appeared from out of nowhere, grabbed it and ran off with it towards his bedroom with a mischievous look in her eyes and ulterior motives that had little to nothing to do with Scotch. He grinned devilishly and limped into the back room after her._

_Approaching the door, he slowly but surely pushed the door open, unsure of what he would find beyond it. As his bed gradually came into view, his hopes were crushed when he glanced around the room to learn that she wasn't even in the room. He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Hallucinations. Great, now I really need a drink…" He grunted in disapproval. "Even when she's not really here, she leads me on, and then runs away. Tease," he growled._

_Just then the adjoining door to his bathroom swung open and banged loudly against the wall. There stood Cameron, in all her glory, wearing nothing but a red lacy baby doll, a matching rose-colored thong, red stilettos and a sexy smirk; brought on by House's dumbfounded expression. His malicious smirk found its way back onto his face. She seductively stepped toward him, leaving good measures of pause between each step to add to the suspense. When she reached him, she pointed to the middle of his chest until he looked down at her finger and spread them out into a firm and steady palm, playfully shoving him onto his bed._

_She straddled him at the waist; slowly and carefully minding his leg. She hooked her thumbs into the bottom of his shirt and lifted it up and off of him. With her palms on his chest, she magically conjured up his bottle of scotch, looking much fuller than it had been earlier. Grinning, she impishly placed her thumb over the top and shook it violently. With a glint in her eye, she barely moved her finger, letting the foamy alcohol spray from the bottle in jets up into the air above them and cascade back down onto their bodies. As much as he hated to watch all of his scotch being wasted, the thought of drinking it off of her would be well worth it._

_He pulled her into him for a deep, sensual kiss; enjoying the fermented taste on her tongue. Their mouths danced in sync with each other in a beautiful symphony of passion. They pulled away briefly when the need for oxygen became too great; they broke apart, gasping for air. House let his hooded eyes drop gaze over her before moving his lips to the sensitive nape of her neck. She moaned at the feeling of his stubble, scraping across his skin, leaving her wanting more of him; all of him. He pulled back sharply as the rest of the scotch was being drizzled onto his head._

As he opened him mouth to ask her of her intentions, his body jolted, waking him in the world he had dreamt to get away from. He sighed in disappointment and anger. He was still cold, still stranded, still waiting for Cameron. He popped another Vicodin and leaned back, out from under the dripping rain that he'd sleepily mistook for Scotch.

_Where is Cameron? What's taking her so long? It's not like her to be lying down on the job…

* * *

_Cameron pulled herself up into the most comfortable sitting position she could muster, rubbing the pain from her knee. I'm such a klutz, she scolded herself for not remembering the furniture in the way before it was too late. If it's not one thing, it's another. Although, no one could really blame me in this hall of perpetual darkness.

She stood to her feet and brushed herself off, wearily heading back down the pitch black hall once more. House is probably wondering where I am. He's so impatient, she thought, grinning. Of course, he's calmed down quite a bit since we first met. She smiled as she began her walk down memory lane…

**

* * *

Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Fall of 2004**

* * *

_Allison Cameron walked confidently down the Diagnostics hallway at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Although she tried hard to hide it, she was slightly nervous to be meeting her new employer, Dr. House. Dr. Cuddy made sure to inform Cameron that one of her biggest trials would be learning how to "deal with" Dr. House, during her interview, the day before. She'd heard plenty of stories about him throughout her years in med school, enough warnings from Dr. Cuddy that she could write them all down and sell them as a survival guide and some light chatter at the nurse's station this morning. However, she knew that some people are more private than others; like her for example._

_'Ignore the insignificant gossip, Allie,' she told herself. 'Besides, how bad could he be?'_

_As she neared the glass office, she could make out an African American male in his mid-thirties, sitting at the table, a magazine in one hand; a coffee mug in another. As she got closer, she saw another male, probably in his late twenties with amazing blonde hair, sitting at the table also, looking across the room. He seemed to be, she squinted to make out the scene clearer, upset. But, what was he looking at?_

_Since she had invested all of her attention into the room down the hall, she failed to see the man who had just stepped out of his office. He too was preoccupied with an open folder in his hands, not looking in front of him. Inevitably, they harshly collided into one another, his paperwork floating out of order and onto the floor._

_"Oh!" Cameron yelped, being knocked off balance. She grabbed onto the closest thing available; the railing._

_"I'm so sorry!" he quickly apologized, momentarily forgetting about his dropped paperwork. He held his hands out and let them hover next to her forearms in case she needed to be steadied. When he saw that she was standing straight again, he took the time to look her over; she was beautiful!_

_"Are, uh…are you alright?" he stuttered in a daze._

_Cameron smiled at him, taking note of his boyish looks and soft brown eyes. "Yes, I'm fine," she smiled, but frowned when she noticed the papers strewn everywhere. She began to kneel down to the floor, "but, I can't say the same about your paperwork. I am so sorry!"_

_He smiled and joined her, grabbing up some loose notes he'd taken. "It's just paper. Lucky for me, it wasn't in any particular order anyway."_

_She gathered up what she could and handed him her collection. "Well, thank goodness for that. I am sorry, though," she insisted. "It was my fault; I wasn't watching where I was going."_

_He chuckled. "Well, then we're both to blame. Multi-tasking has never been my strong suit. First day?"_

_She blushed. "Is it that obvious?"_

_His smile widened; dimples appearing on both sides. "Of course, you're still bright eyed and bushy tailed," he kidded her. "No, not really. I've just never seen you before now, but that explains why." He extended a welcoming hand to her. "Dr. James Wilson. Oncologist."_

_She graciously accepted. "Dr. Allison Cameron. Immunologist."_

_He nodded. "Ah. Well, it seems like you're on the wrong floor. You'll want Dr. Shepherd's office on the second floor. He's the Head of Immunology."_

_"Actually," she said, hesitantly, not really wanting to correct him, "I'm supposed to be going to-"_

_"Wilson!"_

_Both Wilson doctors turned to see a tall, lanky figure striding walking down the hallway towards them. Wilson sighed, just barely loud enough for Cameron to hear. He dropped his head to the floor to avoid eye contact with the approaching stranger, knowing all too well what was going to come from him._

_She carefully studied him with every step he took, running her eyes over him; from top to bottom. He had short brown lightly peppered hair and devastatingly gorgeous blue eyes, even if they were folded into a glare. He wore a dark t-shirt underneath a jet black leather jacket, accented with red and white racing stripes that circled the sleeves, halfway down his upper arms. His dark jeans emphasized his body tone; it was evident that he worked out. To top off his un-professional attire, was his sporty Nike Shox. She glanced back up at him. Realization smacked her upside the head when she noticed that he had been standing there, watching her look him over. She quickly looked away, blushing._

_House glared at her, then towards Wilson. "I can understand that you're on the rebound, but you just signed the divorce papers. Shouldn't you wait at least a half an hour?" He patted Wilson on the stomach. "Don't want your stomach to get all queasy. Things might get icky."_

_Wilson swallowed his embarrassment and turned to Cameron who arched a brow at the odd man's antics. "As much as I'd like to claim that he's escaped from the psych ward, I can't. And I'm sorry to say, he's a doctor."_

_Cameron's eyes grew in surprise. "Here?"_

_House scoffed at her. "Ah! She speaks. Now that we know she can, how can we get her to stop?"_

_Cameron frowned at him; taken back by his comment. It left her unsure of how to respond._

_"Of course, here," he continued. "Now, run along and play. We've got more important things to do than stand around here, talking to crazy people."_

_Unsure if she should actually go, she stood nervously in place._

_"Like what?" Wilson sneered._

_House was ready to respond, when he noticed Cameron's still presence. House leaned in, instantly freezing her to her spot. She just met this man, she doesn't even know his name and he's managed to insult her and captivate her at the same time. His lips came achingly close to her face as he passed it and softly breathed in her ear._

_Wilson watched helplessly, wishing that House would give up or that he could lure him away from such an innocent bystander. As a soft breeze blew over her ear, she closed her eyes briefly and when re-opening them, Wilson's sympathetic look was replaced with surprise and curiosity when he saw something that intrigued him._

_Her pupils were dilated._

_After another brief wave of warm air passed, her knees felt weak. Overwhelmed by the closeness, her pulse picked up and her heart started beating double-time. She felt like they were suspended in time, unable to move. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard his mouth open, ready to speak._

_"GO AWAY!"_

_Cameron recoiled at his harshly shouted words. Embarrassed, she shied down the hallway towards the Diagnostic Dept. He watched meticulously as she turned and quickly disappeared into the Ladies' Restroom, ignoring Wilson's rant on insensitivity. Shaking himself from his curious stupor, he nudged his head towards the elevator. "C'mon, it's lunchtime."_

_Feeling that arguing was pointless at this point, Wilson sighed and followed House down to the cafeteria.

* * *

_

_**A Free Rueben and a swiped bag of chips later...**_

_ House and Wilson were returning to their respective offices, when he noticed an extra person in the conference room._

_"House," Wilson warned, knowing the thoughts running through his friend's mind._

_House stopped Wilson with his hand smirked, twirling his cane in his other. "I just want to observe this complicated and apparently deaf, species in its natural habitat." He crept slowly and quietly into his office. When Foreman saw him, House raised his finger to his lips, signaling for him to keep his mouth shut. Chase, on the other hand, hadn't noticed him since he was turned around in his chair, his attention divided sole to Cameron._

_House sauntered over, stopping behind her and listened as Chase asked her where she was transferring from. She poured some coffee into the mugs and picked one up to offer it to Chase._

_"I did an internship at the May-Oh!" she yelped, as she turned around to find House's body practically pressing into hers, sending a surprised jolt through her body, spilling the cup of coffee all over the front of her new, white blouse._

_"Oh, no!" she cried, setting the mug back down on the counter, reaching for some paper towel. She tore off a couple of squares and dabbed at her vest._

_"I think you misunderstood what I said earlier," he said, glaring at her, "when I said, 'Go play', I didn't mean in my sandbox."_

_I didn't realize it had crabs, she mentally snorted. After revisiting his last comment, she stopped messing with her shirt and looked up to him in shock. "You're Dr. House?"_

_"What gave it away? Was it the cane?" he snorted, shaking his cane it in front of her face._

_She stared at it in awe. She'd heard of Dr. House's infarction, but why hadn't she noticed it before now? "I-I didn't know."_

_House stared at her in surprise. He could tell that she was surprised by this, but oddly enough, he didn't receive the look of pity he was anticipating. In fact, if he hadn't caught the quick changes to her eyes and the slight increase in the speed of her breathing, he'd have written her off as scared. Finally, he was seeing what Wilson had discovered but kept silent about. He narrowed his eyes further as he thought. But…she's not scared of him._

_ Stunned, perhaps, but not scared._

_House's glare morphed from angry and irritated to slightly annoyed, yet terribly amused. His frown curled into a devious grin, making her a nervous._

_She was aroused by him!_

_And, oh, how it was practically plastered on her face._

_"Do you know your name?" he condescendingly remarked, waiting to find out who she was and what she was doing there._

_"Cameron," she fumbled, backing up until she ran into the counter. He pressed closer to her._

_"Either your parents were really cruel and they were expecting a boy or "Cameron" is your last name…"_

_"Yeah," she replied, vaguely, causing House's brow to uplift. As he continued to stay silent and simply look at her, she stuttered, not realizing he wanted her to elaborate on her last answer. "Cameron; is my last name."_

_"Well, Cameron is my last name, what are you doing here?"_

_"Allison," she corrected him._

_"No, no," he said, shaking his head, "I'm DOC-TOR HOW-SUH!" he exaggerated, making her feel less than smart, "WHAT ARE YOU," he said loudly, pointing at her, "DOING HERE?"_

_"I, uh, work here?" she squeaked out in question._

_"In THIS hospital, with THAT level of comprehension?" He turned to Chase and Foreman. "Did Cuddy hire another candy striper without telling me?" Chase glared at him; Foreman went back to reading his article._

_"No, I'm a-"_

_"You're a nurse, aren't you? Hope you studied real hard in Hospital Gossip 101," he sneered._

_"House…" he heard Cuddy's warning voice from the doorway, "You were supposed to be in the clinic over an hour ago."_

_His head tilted to the side as his body slouched. "But, mo-om!"_

_Cameron was confused at how this man was so intimidating one second to her, but so immature with his boss the next. Her thoughts were interrupted by Cuddy's inquiry._

_"Dr. Cameron, I trust you're settling in well with everyone?"_

_She felt House's critical gaze upon her. "Yes, thank you, Dr. Cuddy," she replied, avoiding eye-contact with her other inquisitive boss._

_The Dean's eyes turned back to her aggravating employee. "House, you have ten minutes."_

_Ignoring her as she walked off, he glared at Cameron, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. "You failed to mention the medical degree while you were making the morning sludge."_

_"It's actually better than Chase's." Foreman threw out; shrugging innocently at Chase's offended, "Hey!"_

_She handed a mug to chase. Trying it, he was surprised by how different it tasted than his. "Hey, this is good..."  
_

_Nervously, she handed House an already filled cup of coffee and silently prayed her liked it._

_Taking it, he put the cup to his lips and tested it out. Swallowing, he brought it back down to his waist and narrowed his eyes to critique her coffee-making skills._

_"It seems to be fit for human consumption," he stated. She smiled at his answer, even if it was less than what she expected. He noticed her cheeriness, slightly mind-boggled by the fact that he'd been in the same room with her for more than five minutes and she'd yet to cry and added, "But just barely. You are now designated as the Official Coffee maker and mail sorter."_

_Her smile faltered slightly at his grousing, but never disappeared completely._

_"What's your position?"_

_Handing Chase a cup of what coffee should taste like, she asked, "Do you mean, what's my specialty?"_

_"I can already tell you're a missionary girl, all the way. Now, specialty, or major, if you will," he asked, already heading to his office._

_Foreman looked up from his magazine with surprised eyes, mirroring Chase's. Cameron blushed at the audience in the room. "Immunology."_

_They scoffed at him and looked sympathetically at Cameron. She smirked in return. "I'll bet I know what he majors in…"_

_They guys chuckled as she walked over to the desk and started rummaging through a giant stack of conference and patient requests._

From that day on, they fell into a more relaxed and familiar routine. From coffee, medical journals and crosswords to gruff, sarcastic banter, to yelling, mocking and condescending lecturing which at the end of the day, wound them up in the same place-back to the beginning to start again the next day.

Although he stayed consistent most of the time, House had his moments of showing some humane display of emotions; especially where it concerned Allison Cameron. She smiled at the memory of his moments of vulnerability. Among the top of her list was their night out to see Monster Truck Jam when they made a trip to Rutherford, their first kiss (ulterior motive be damned) and the motorcycle ride they shared.

She chuckled at her fond memories. _Now I can add this trip to them_. Her smile quickly turned into a sad one when she reminded herself that, as much as it killed her to think it, these may be her last memories with House.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. To make it up to you, I made this last chapter extra long. Ok, this next chapter is going to be tricky, so it may take me a little bit, but fortunately, I've got half of it already written! YEA! So, I plan on a LOT of Hameron fluffiness in this next one, possibly leading into smut and I've never written smut before, so please go easy on me. If you have any advice on smut writing, or you liked this chapter, please fill out the compliment card by clicking on the Submit Review button, lol.

Seriously though, I apologize for the long awaited chapter and reviews would be MUCH appreciated. It makes me want to write that much more and that much faster! XD

**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**


	40. Love Won't Be Enough

A/N: Okay, I stayed up until 3 in the morning to give you all the dose of Hameron smut I'm sure you've all been waiting for. Please take the time of this posting into consideration when you read it and ignore bad grammar and what not. If something is out of canon, I'm sorry, I tried to work it. Also, characters may be OOC, I apologize. Also, this is my first attempt at anything sexual, erotic, yada yada yada, so please be kind and let me know what you thought. I may try to work more in later, also.

P.S. I want to thank the writers for the lovely job they did with last week's episode "Big Baby." I enjoyed Cameron having control over House and House's request for oral sex. It made me happy. Thank you!

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Love Won't Be Enough...  
**

Cameron pulled herself from her depressing thoughts and looking around, she noticing that she had somehow made her way back down the path that they had previously taken, up the stairs. Running down the hallway, she stopped short of the door that led to The Amazon Rainforest Exhibit and took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

Making her way into the room, a gush of tainted, cold air attacked her lungs. The room was chilled and damp, unlike the rest of the building which simply stood slightly warmer and dormant with no one to occupy it. Trees and shrubs lining the sidewalk became unfamiliarly familiar to her with each step.

"House!" she called.

When she got no reply, she walked on a bit farther until the large obstruction of metal and debris came into view.

"Greg?" she asked, curiously.

A large hand fell with a smack onto her shoulder. Cameron shrieked and turned around, glaring at her amused boss as his grin grew wider. "House!" she scolded, taking her open palm and slapped him across the arm as hard as she could.

"Agh," he exclaimed in surprise at the strength his fragile-looking immunologist had. His other hand lifted to hold his now throbbing arm away from her, incase she was up for another go.

"Where were you?" she demanded.

"I was waiting for you! What took you so long, touching up your nails?" he smirked.

"Yeah," she replied in a huff, "I thought to myself, 'If I'm going out, I'm going out with shiny pink nails.' You know, so the mortician won't have to bother."

He didn't particularly like the direction that this conversation was headed, so he continued to banter back with her, hoping it'd lighten or change to another subject. The last thing they needed to worry about was death.

"Hmm…maybe I should've shaved this morning," he quipped, rubbing his stubble.

"If you had, they wouldn't be able to identify your body if they found it."

"Are you kidding? This handsome mug is totally memorable."

She looked up into his face and met his gaze. Ever since she'd made it back to him, the only thing she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him. Instead, she got the usual uncaring, insensitive banter that always reared its ugly head.

House sensed her frustration and confusion and felt compelled to reassure her. "We'll make it."

While his words sunk in, she nodded and reached to his side, taking his hand into hers. "Come on, Noah," she grinned, leading him towards the door. "Let's go find out if the flood's over yet."

"Hold on," he said, pulling his arm back, "Gotta grab my stuff." Cameron watched him limp over to his former resting place and pick up a few fuzzy backpacks. She gulped slightly harder than usual when he doubled over to reach the floor. Her eyes were completely glued to his athletic build. She couldn't help but smile.

Slinging them over his shoulder, House straightened back up and turned to see Cameron grinning like an idiot at him. He wanted to be annoyed that she watched his clumsy crippled self try to pick up things. He wanted to be angry that she enjoyed watching his attempt at it; however successful he had been was not the issue. However, what he ended up doing was much that of the opposite. He never even thought about doing such a thing; it simply happened on its own.

He smiled back. "Okay, let's get going."

* * *

They stared dismally out the front door's glass panes as the hurricane's torrid side storms ripped through the city. The wind ripped harshly against the windows, causing them to shake and shudder loudly. Rain still pelted against the building, showing no signs of letting up anytime soon.

Cameron sighed in disappointment and forfeit.

House turned to watch her as she shuffled over to a wall and fell back against it with a thud; her head hitting sharply against the drywall. Sliding down, she brought her knees to her chest and slipped them over her folded arms. She missed the sympathetic glance her gave her. He didn't know what to say. Any fake optimism he could show her would be hypocritical, for her was in the same boat, and wouldn't believe anything he would be trying to reassure her with. He turned back to the drenched world in front of him and alternated views of the abused world outside, and the carpet where his feet were taking up residence.

"I never…had a family," Cameron numbly muttered, unaware that she spoke out loud.

He shook his head, caught offhanded by the random tidbit of her personal life being thrown out into the open. "You know," he warned, "the last time we played this, we cut each other down and you wound up with glass in your hand."

She looked up from the imaginary spot on the wall she'd been staring at and focused her eyes on House's in a questioning manner. "What?"

His surprised expression narrowed. "You tell me."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" She was genuinely confused.

His brows knitted together in suspicion and concern. "You just randomly voiced the fact that you're an orphan."

She nodded when she realized what she must've said out loud, and shook her head negatively in response. "No, I have parents. And I have an older brother." He waited for her to explain her statement, but instead of elaborating, she fell into a thoughtful silence once more.

"And that makes you family-less how?" he pressed.

"I lost my husband and my baby," she sniffled, a stream of saline trailing down her cheek. "I never had the family I was supposed to have."

He shook his head. "My family's far from perfect," he offered. "My dad was abusive and sugarcoated it by calling it discipline. My mother's always lived in fear of my father and never stood up to him a day in her life. To compensate for her lack of spine, she cares twice as much as you do. And I'm an only child."

She met his gaze.

"I'd like to consider myself an orphan, but they'd still come to visit and then what would I tell people?" he joked. He popped a few pills in his mouth and let them start to dissolve under his tongue, hoping they'd take away the pain of the memories his father left him with throughout his life.

She nodded, clearly not in a joking mood. Seeing this, he let more of his soul bear through a bit.

"It's a little premature to think about the things you never got to do. Neither one of us are on our deathbeds," he pointed out, limping off down the hallway.

Not wanting to be left alone, Cameron reluctantly followed. "We may not be dying this moment, but soon we'll either run out of food and water or we'll be washed away from all of this freak of nature weather."

Pushing open a door marked 'Employees Only", he snickered at her comment. "I never thought I'd live to see the day that Allison Cameron, the Queen of Hope, became anything but optimistic." He let the door swing open the rest of the way and shined his light around the room, revealing the employee lounge, complete with an un-powered television set. Grinning, he made his way across the room and plopped exhaustively down onto the leather couch in front of it. Dropping his cane to the floor beside him, he kicked off his shoes and got comfortable.

Cameron slowly walked around the room, looking for anything that they might be able to use later on in their quest to get home; in case they did make it. Thunder grumbled outside, shaking the windows and causing the floor to vibrate beneath them. Seeing nothing that particularly stood out as a "must have" in their current situation, she slowly approached the couch House lay on.

"What are you doing?" she asked, slightly annoyed and surprised.

He smirked, "I'm trying to sleep, but your voice is too grating. You mind keeping it down?"

He winced as she blinded him with her flashlight. He squinted his eyes; shielding them from the intense beam of light in his face. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly. Why, did you want a second opinion of your vocal octave, because I'm the only one here…"

She ignored his sarcasm and sighed. Looking around, she started pacing slowly in front of the couch. "I guess you're right. We found shelter and food and water. There doesn't seem like there's anything left for us to do now. If the weather lets up, we make a break for it and hope that someone finds us. If it doesn't, well…we stay here and make the best out of it for as long as we can." Cameron's voice started to crack at her weak points. "We can't control our fate, right, so why bother delaying the inevitable? I guess we'll just stay here and-"

House had cracked an eye open while she'd been in mid-rant and waited until she'd come close enough to the couch. He shot his arm out and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Hey!" Cameron squealed as her body was yanked down, almost eye-level to the couch.

He pulled his arm back into his side where it started and hooked his other arm around her waist, pulling her onto the couch with him, holding her tightly.

"House! What are you-"

"We went over this. I'm trying to sleep," he replied, tightening his grip on her.

"You…I…we…"she stammered in surprise.

"Shush!" he silenced her again.

"But-"she pressed on.

"Silence woman!" he admonished playfully, but serious. "Look, would you rather be somewhere else but here right now?"

She looked at him like he was insane. "Yeah, home."

He scoffed. "I meant, would you rather be somewhere else in New Orleans than here right now?"

She thought over his question thoroughly and shook her head. "No…"

"Great! Now go to sleep…"

"House," she scolded, becoming irritated at his gesture with no explanation.

"Cameron," he answered, mocking her in a similarly annoyed tone of voice.

She sighed, "Greg…"

"Allison…" he too sighed, opening his eyes to let them dig into hers. He pleaded that she'd simply give in without an admission of emotion. To his surprise and hers, she received the message loud and clear.

Accepting this, her sea green eyes slid down until they spotted his lips. Focusing on them she slowly leaned in and brushed them with the soft skin of her own and sexily ran her tongue of his bottom lip, inviting a response from him. With a soft moan, his mouth opened enough to let her really kiss him with the passion that she held inside for him.

She danced against his mouth for a moment and slowly pulled away. She toed off her shoes and scooted lightly down the couch, burying her face into the crook of his neck until she was comfortable.

From the stress of the circumstances that were really weighing down harshly on them, they found an inner peace in each other's embrace and surrendered to much needed sleep.

Nope. They were right were they both wanted to be.

* * *

Cameron was about to sleepily open her eyes when she felt the touch of someone stroking her hair. Remembering where she was and who she was with, she didn't want it to stop. It felt amazing and comforting and she was going to milk it for all it was worth. After a few minutes, House's hand's movement ceased. Disappointed, she debated whether or not to go on pretending she was asleep or to give a fake yawn and pretend to just wake up.

"I know you're awake," he informed her, smugly.

Unable to keep from smiling, she let it grace her face and looked up at him. "I was afraid if I acknowledged that you were doing something nice that you'd freak out and stop on me."

He cleared his throat to ready himself for tackling a subject he didn't want to really go into, but he felt compelled to say something. "I'm sorry that you feel like you have no family. I, uh, know what it's like."

Her heart went out to him. He was trying to open up to her and it was one of the few things she always wanted. "You've always got Wilson and Cuddy," she offered.

"Thanks for that thought. Now it's going to be too weird to stare down Cuddy's shirt everyday," he dramatically shook as if a chill hit him.

She giggled, "Serves you right."

"Yeah, well, anyway. If we make it outta here and you ever get bored or something during the holidays, you could come over," he offered.

Her smile widened. "You want me to spend the holidays with you?"

He shrugged. "Wilson usually cooks too much anyway and brings the good stuff over. I'm sure he'd enjoy your praises over his cooking skills."

"Thanks," she nodded, still smiling. He wanted her company and they both knew it. It was his way of camouflaging his real motives. Touched by his uncharacteristically nice gesture, she tentatively moved her face closer to House's, claiming his lips. Uncertain at first, House hesitates for a moment, but then instinctively kisses back; moving slowly at first, then more rigorously.

Cupping her face in his hands, he cradled her head; his fingers moving through her hair. Cameron pulled on the back of his neck, dragging him deeper and deeper into the kiss. His hand ran down her neck, over her shoulder and down her arm. Plummeting down a road of no return and little willpower, his kiss became more heated and his breathing quickened. She pulled away momentarily from him.

"Greg?"

"Hmm?" he hummed.

"Will you do me a favor?" She asked, looking meaningfully into his eyes.

He nodded silently.

"Will you make love to me?"

House froze, his eyes locked on her, not sure what to do. His eyes started to dart everywhere, eager to escape her critical gaze.

"Cameron…" he started, the use of her last name making her feel suddenly unwanted and humiliated.

"Please?" she pleaded, swallowing down a choked sob, sensing she was about to be let down and denied of something so passionate that she craved. She looked away, tears forming in her eyes at the rejection she knew was about to come.

House kicked himself. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he had no idea what to do or what to say. He had no time to figure this them out yet. _Maybe if I take this slowly, it'll turn out alright. Just think before you speak_, he reminded himself.

"Allie," he spoke softly, drawing her gaze back to him.

"I'm twice your age and I've never really had a decent relationship to speak of. I'll forget your birthday, anniversaries and even other things that are important to you. I'll fight you tooth and nail over stupid things and joke about the serious ones. I'm," he sighed deeply, "in constant pain all the time and I can be a real bastard. I don't know what's going to happen to either one of us and I don't know what things will be like if we make it out of here. But I do know that I like you and I care about you a lot. More than Wilson, in fact. But if we do this, I have a really big feeling that you're going to regret it. Are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked her, looking into her eyes for an answer.

"Whole-heartedly," she replied, her eyes also conveying the same answer to him. She smiled at him as he nodded back.

Oddly enough, he returned it, genuinely.

Growling playfully in her ear, he lightly nipped on her earlobe, before gently scraping his teeth down the side of her neck, peppering it with kisses. Feeling his breath breeze by her, she stretched her neck to let him continue and let out an aroused moan. Hearing something so seductive come from her was almost House's undoing. He kissed his way rapidly, yet attentively back up her body to her face and assaulted her lips.

His hands moved over her body, exploring it in detail. Cameron pulled away and pushed herself from the couch, facing away from him. House stood from the couch also and removed his T-shirt. He wrapped his arms around Cameron's waist; kissing her collarbone. She leaned away from his mouth, allowing him to start high and trail down it. As his kisses reached her shirt strap, he slid his hands up to lift Cameron's tank top up and off of her body.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his chest against her back. His hands smoothed over the skin of her stomach, giving her goose bumps and his fingers hooked into the waistband of her jeans. He tugged at them around the button until it came loose and pulled down the zipper; gripping the sides and pushing them over her hips and down her legs.

He pulled the straps of her bra off while he continued to kiss his way down her shoulder, alternating down both sides. Cameron turned around and shook her hair out of her ponytail, letting it fall delicately to cascade onto her shoulders. While she traced her fingers down his washboard abs and started to undo his jeans, she looked up at him and smiled, then leaned in and took his lips hostage once again. Pushing his jeans down and out of the way, she resurfaced to tug on his boxers. He stopped her, his hands resting on hers.

"Allie…" his voice cracked out.

She smiled at him understandingly.

Kneeling down, she leveled her head slightly under his waist and gently pulled them down to his ankles. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, he felt he was unable to do anything but watch her study every inch of him. She ran the palms of her hands up the inside of his thighs, making his manhood jump at the sensation. They traveled upwards, trailing along the crease where his legs met his torso, and lightly crossed his stomach. Moving her hands up his arms, she looked up into his nervous and rarely caring face.

"I can't," he breathes out.

She looks devastated and embarrassed, wrapping her arms around her chest. With tears in her eyes, she looks to the floor. "Oh."

His heart ripped as he watched what his words did to her. He pulled her head up with a finger under her chin and stared into her eyes in all seriousness. "I meant, I can't do this on the couch. We're going to have to think of some other way."

She smiled, feeling foolish as she took in his words and nodded. Looking around, she stepped behind him and pulled up the cushions from the couch and placed them and others from an adjoining couch onto the floor. Positioning them to form a clean rectangle, she turned back to House and placed her hands behind his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him. This time, when they locked lips, she continued to pull him down until he stumbled onto the cushions.

He watched as she stood above him and slowly lowered her panties down her flawless form, stepping out of them with a certain degree of grace. Seductively, she kneeled to the bottom of the make-shift mattress.

He held his breath as she crawled up his naked form like a lioness and kissed her way up his chest. When she reached his neck, he grabbed onto her tightly around the waist. She squealed in surprise as he rolled them over, his body now towering over hers, his weight distributed to his left side.

Massaging her tongue with his, he began to grind his body against hers; pleased at the sensations he was causing her. Their kiss grew heated and Cameron didn't think she could take much more. House was starting to feel the same, but he'd promised himself that she'd be the one to give in; not him. He reached down to position himself and gently rubbed his thick member against her already slick folds.

"Greg," she panted, "please."

"Please what?" he teased her.

Inside, she was screaming at him. He knew what she wanted. She should've anticipated that he'd make her beg for it. "I want to feel you inside of me…please, Greg!"

"Say 'pretty please'," he grinned, pleased by this torture he was inflicting upon her.

She sighed in frustration. "Pretty please…"

"Say 'pretty please with scotch on top'…" he taunted, his grin widening as he momentarily pulled away; breaking all contact.

She whimpered. "Pretty please with scotch on top…"

"Say 'pretty please with scotch on top and-'"

"HOUSE!" she growled at him; loud and desperate.

He quickly repositioned himself at her entrance and slowly eased into her. Cameron let out a sexy, carnal moan, almost sending House over the edge. He pushed past her tightly constricted muscles until his scrotum made contact against her soft skin. He had bottomed out, and it felt…indescribably amazing.

Every nerve ending sparked from the electricity coursing through their bodies. The tiniest movement set explosions of pleasure running underneath their sensitive skin. Neither one of them moved, the sensitivity too intense. Cameron panted hoarsely under him as they locked eyes. Silent confessions of want, need and love were nonverbally whispered. She smiled through deep breaths and she swore she saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

Soon, the temptation to move became too great and Cameron squeezed her pelvic muscles tightly, clamping down onto House like a vice. She watched as he hissed at the blissful feel of her walls around him, his face full of bittersweet pleasure. His body began to move without being commanded by his brain; his primal side taking over. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed right back into her. Every pull was carefully measured to bring her to an abandoned whimper; every forceful thrust filled her with a moan of dripping wet satisfaction.

Sweat beaded up into droplets, giving their skin a dew-kissed look. Gripping the cushions, he roughly pulled himself towards the floor, driving deeper into her. She yelped, not knowing he could dig any deeper than he already had and pressed her hips into his, meeting every plunge he took. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit into it, holding it between her teeth; groaning at the pleasure he inflicted as his palm massaged her pert breast.

She felt her head spinning in a whirl of euphoria. It was all so erotic; the feel of him massaging her inside and out, the touch of his lips, the combination of sweat, the natural musk of man and a hint of his cologne. The eye sex they frequently had in the last few years would _never_ compare to the real thing. This was possibly the closest either of them would ever get to heaven; and it was perfect. Nothing that would come to pass could take this away from them. No one could steal this moment. This moment would always be with them, in mind and in spirit.

And for once, Gregory House was genuinely happy.

All it took was the love of one woman; Allison Cameron. And she was just as elated as he was to be with her. He observed her face as he seemed to keep finding all of the right buttons to push, as if he had a secret manual to pleasing her. He knew just where to kiss, just what to touch, just what angle to thrust at. She gasped and moaned and writhed in pleasure beneath him, soaking up all he had to offer her. Foreign dominant commands fell from her mouth; "Harder!", "Deeper!" and "Faster!" He complied with her breathy requests, picking up his pace and putting more force into his strokes as he slammed into her.

As her heart slammed in her chest, she felt the need for release coming. Her moans started to get louder, signaling her heightened arousal.

"Greg…I…I'm-" she stammered in between hard, labored breaths.

At the sound of his name being pleaded from her lips, he felt himself reaching his own peak of the mountain he'd been climbing since they first started. He slid his hand between their hot compressed bodies and down to where they were blissfully joined. She was craving him and he knew she was close.

"Let go, Allison," he growled seductively, his breath grazing her ear.

He wet his finger in her juices and applied a hint of pressure to her arousal, sending her tumbling over the edge. She bucked her hips wildly against his hand, riding out her orgasm, letting it wash over her like a tidal wave as her drenched walls began to spasm around him. House put all of his effort into his final few thrusts, ignoring the pain in his leg, and let out a guttural cry as he emptied himself inside of her, her name falling from his lips. Collapsing next to her, they laid still for a few moments, trying to catch their own respective breaths.

Breathing slowed and became deeper, heart rates decreased and blood pressure dropped considerably before they were able to talk, let alone look at each other. Thoughts flooded back to both of their minds after they were temporarily shut off from all the excitement.

House closed his eyes. _I just had sex with Cameron. No, not just had sex. Made love? Sounds girly, but yeah, close enough. Crap. Jimmy's going to have a field day when he finds out. If he finds out. But, man, it was amazing! I haven't felt that youthful and energetic in years! I wonder how she's feeling. Probably ecstatic; it's a dream come true for her. I wonder if she'd be up for doing that again…_

Meanwhile, Cameron stared at the ceiling, pondering on her thoughts and worries. _Ok. What just happened? I asked House to make love to me. And, boy did we ever! That was so incredible! It was like we'd been together forever and he knew me; really knew me. I hope it was better than his "Usual Wednesday". I wonder if he'd be willing to do that again…_

Unknown to both of them, they both had the same fear, which neither one wanted to voice.

Sighing deeply, he rolled over to face his lover. She grinned wildly at him, communicating thanks for what they just did, but it fell into an awkward and shy half-smile. He tried to return it, but knew what she was looking for was an answer. An answer to the ultimate unasked question between them both…

_Now what?

* * *

**Please REVIEW! Put in your two cents! Tell me what you thought!**_


	41. Admit It Now, Your Information Sucks!

_A/N: This story turned a year old on the 5th, so YEA! Happy Birthday to my imagination! To celebrate this happy occasion, I made cupcakes. Unfortunately, I'm unable to mail them; the United States Postal Service won't allow me to ship food through them. So, to make up for it, I made this chapter longer than I intended to originally! Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter Thirty-Nine

**_Admit It Now, Your Information Sucks_**

House lay completely sated with his arms wrapped around the woman he wanted more than anyone in the entire world. He arched a confused brow and gave her a small and teasing half-smile, evading her questioning glances.

"What?" he prompted, urging her to ask what he already knew was coming.

"So…?" she trailed off, looking to him, impatiently. She pushed down her nagging urge to ask him about his feelings and what he thought.

He shrugged. "I've had worse."

Cameron gasped at his horrid "compliment", smacked him in the chest pretty hard and started to roll off the "mattress" to gather her things.

He chuckled to himself. Cameron squealed in surprise as he lassoed her by the waist with his arm and reeled her back down onto the cushions next to him, holding her tight. "Where do you think you're going, missy?"

She turned her head around to discover he'd actually been kidding. She smiled shyly at him. "Nowhere?"

"Good answer," he nodded and rested his head against hers.

"House?" she asked, carefully.

He frowned slightly at the jump back to his last name. "Greg," he corrected her.

She sighed and turned over to face him. "Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"What was that?" she asked, vaguely.

He smirked and shook his head. "You'd think they'd have taught you this in med school! Well, Allison, when a man and woman really love each other…actually, that's not always the case…"

"Is it in ours?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't know…It might've been the Vicodin talking…"

"Greg…" she pleaded.

"Fine…party pooper," he sighed.

"Well?" she prodded him.

"-is for people without city water," he finished, placing his arm under his head, watching in amusement while she paused to contemplate the meaning to his reply. When it clicked, she rolled her eyes and shot him an impatient glare.

"Yes," he stated simply.

She smiled knowingly at him. "Yes, what?"

He grimaced. "You know what!"

She pouted, her bottom lip sticking out.

A growl emerged from his throat. "Yes; we had sex because the man and woman loved each other."

She grinned. "I love you."

"And I love parts of you, too," he smirked, attacking her neck with his kisses.

She moaned in delight as his teeth ran along her skin, briefly sinking into it; nibbling on it in short playful bites. One nip had her wincing at the pain it inflicted. Sensing it was too rough, he pulled back from the wounded muscle and gently ran his tongue over it; soothing it in his own sensual way.

Satisfied that he'd covered her neck, he moved down and encircled each breast with his warm, wet tongue, taking each nipple into his mouth to gently suck on. Letting go, he lightly kissed them and slid down her sternum; peppering her stomach with sweet nips, deepening them as he reached her sensitive sides.

She sharply inhaled at the erotic sensation created when his rough stubble grazed her sensitive skin. House kissed along both thigh lines and down to her sweet, throbbing core. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, letting the light gentle wind of his warm breath engulf Cameron in the place she felt most vulnerable. The feeling sent shocks of electricity through her nerves and, even though she could feel her blood practically boiling, the rest of her body shook with desire, and chills ran down her spine.

He grinned as he watched goose bumps form over her milky white skin. With a simple flick of his tongue to her swollen nub, Cameron gasped as her back shot up towards the ceiling in a perfect arch. Grasping her hips, he roughly pulled her back towards him and sucked down hard, his mouth dancing perfectly over her sex.

Cameron moaned loudly from the unbelievable pleasure he was giving her, raking her fingers through his hair. She bucked under his ministrations, not trying to pull away from him, but pressing into his hungry lips, begging for more.

Cameron felt she was reaching the peak of her arousal and conveyed it to him by struggling to press harder and move faster into him; her hands gripped tightly patches of his hair as if she were clinging on for dear life. Carefully but with a bit of pressure, he nibbled down on her, causing her breath to hitch as she came. As she shakily came down from her euphoric high, he flattened his tongue out; lapping up the sweet nectar that poured from her, sending aftershocks through her body.

After sucking her clean and dry, he resumed his soft kisses back up her body, taking note of her steadying breath and decreasing heart rate at the various pulse points his lips encountered. His eyes trailed her body; marveling at her perfect features. Cameron looked down at him in a hazy mixture of love and lust and smiled. When he approached her face she kissed him deeply, trying to wipe away the smug grin he was bearing. The taste of ecstasy melted between them, along with the mind-numbingly heady taste of her previous orgasm, which he had no problem sharing with her.

Her kisses grew stronger, thanking him for everything he'd done for her; not just for the intimate things they were currently experiencing, but for all of the previous things he'd done for her when she needed him the most. His returned them twice as hard. As if his erection had a mind and life of its own, it sniffed around until it found its destination and swiftly slid right back into her, revamping her wetness and need for him.

He threw his head back in a deep, guttural moan at how damp and tight she became again, swearing it couldn't have been possible considering he stretched her so far not long ago. His hands tangled themselves in her long, soft locks and he fell into a steady rocking pace.

As things were heating up, Cameron lifted her legs higher and locked her ankles behind his lower back, giving him a fresh depth that had them both squealing in delight and sending them on their way to their nearly simultaneous release. He plowed into her harder, knowing just how to push every button; every tiny spot of her body that was yearning to be touched. Without warning, he rammed into her flawlessly to bring her body to a nervous overload and growled as her insides squeezed the life out of his throbbing member. The scream of his name was his ultimate undoing.

"Oh, Allie!" he groaned as he exploded inside of her; her muscles milking him dry of everything he had to offer her. Breathless, he slowly and reluctantly pulled out and collapsed heavily on top of her; beads of sweat trickling down his face. Putting all of his weight on his elbows, he kissed around her body, still waiting for his oxygen supply to regulate.

In the madness of their feverish love-making, neither one had noticed that the weather had cleared up considerably. House's mouth stopped short at the top of her right thigh when he noticed sunlight shining into the room from a side window, basking Cameron's lower half in an angelic golden glow. He pushed himself forward, pulling her in for a supposed final heart-felt kiss before speaking.

"As much as I'd like to continue to screw you silly, I need some refractory time and I think we better head out," he suggested.

Cameron whined in protest. House grinned at the sound; reminding him of a sad puppy dog left alone in a kennel during its first night. "I know. _Believe_ me, _I_ _know_," he insisted, kissing her again, "but we're going to have to save this immorality for another rainy day."

She attempted to pout again, but its effects were nonexistent.

"Don't go trying to make me feel bad, woman! No one is being tortured by having to stop here more than me!"

"But, what if we don't make it?" she asked, looking sincerely into her eyes.

"We will," he replied in all seriousness, winking at her.

She nodded.

"Good. Now," he commanded, slapping her on the butt, "get ready. We've got to make a run for civilization before Hell rains down again."

"Run…" she snorted, grabbing her clothes and redressing.

He looked up from searching for his own clothes and narrowed his eyes at her. 'I heard that…"

She smiled smugly, pulling on her pants.

Once dressed, Cameron and House made their way out of the Employee Lounge and back down the hallway, arriving at the door that previously separated them from such a nasty, stormy world.

Taking a deep breath, Cameron pushed the bar and they stepped outside.

* * *

The sun was shining and beating down on the city, drying up that which was drenched not long ago. The temperature was at a nice peak; not scolding hot, but not cool enough for a light jacket, either. They walked down the drying sidewalk, towards the road.

They stopped at the street light and looked in both directions.

"Which way should we go?" Cameron asked, looking for signs of life both ways.

"This way," House nodded his head to the left. "Only thing down that way," he said, referring to the road they decided against traveling down, "is a hopeless cause for a hopeless fraud."

"He's-" she started to defend him.

"-an idiot who uses publicity to further his disease," House finished.

"You really don't care for him, do you?"

He gave her his best scoff and sneered at the thought.

"Caring wouldn't kill you, you know. You should try it sometime."

"It may not kill, but it hurts like heck. In fact, it's hurting my leg right now. Where's my candy?"

Cameron swung her pack off of her shoulder and unzipped the front, fishing for the right canister of medication. After reading a few, she found it and tossed it to him. The bottle rattled when it made contact with his palm. He shook it, mentally counting every tablet's movement he heard. Satisfied that it was full enough for him, he popped the lid off and shook out a couple into his hand. Dry swallowing them, he replaced the lid and stuffed it his pocket.

As they walked down the street, passing building after building, House's eye caught some movement inside of one of the damaged structures. Curious as ever, he slowly started to approach the pile, still breathing as something struggled inside of it. Cameron noticed it as well and it caused her heart to stop.

This was freakishly close to the events in her dream. What if it was going to happen, but she was the one to die?

"No!" she shook her head out of her stupor and tightly grabbed him by the arm. "Don't!" she pleaded.

He noticed how adamant she was against his curiosity and squinted at her. "What! Why?"

Great, now she felt stupid for freaking out. "Uh…well…"

"Spit it out."

"You never know what it could be. Let's just keep walking…" she begged.

"But Cameron, it could be a person who needs our medical attention!" he insisted sarcastically, trying to further investigate.

She whined a frustrated sigh. "Greg, please."

"I just want to see what it is," he explained.

"Don't…let's just get out of here."

_Wow! _He thought. _She is REALLY worked up over this…_

"Just let me poke it?" he asked, giving her a puppy dog pout.

Cameron was about to ask to simply leave again when they heard a helpless whine coming from the pile of rubble. Cameron looked up to House in surprise and changed her mind about not stopping to help. Instead, she moved to get closer like he had attempted, but she was halted by his cane barring her at the waist.

"Never mind, you were right. Let's get going..."

"What?" she asked in astonishment. "Why? I thought you wanted to help!"

"I thought you wanted to leave!" he retorted, hooking his arm around hers and starting to pull her on down the street. "Besides, that was when I thought it was a person."

She yanked her arm away from him. "Greg, it's an animal and it's injured. We can't just leave; it needs help!"

"Not a chance. It's probably injured beyond saving; we should just keep…on…"

Cameron ignored him and walked up to the mound of debris. To the right of the pile of light colored rock and crumbled drywall, a coat of dark fur could be seen, trying to move with no luck succeeding.

"Hey there…" she crooned, not sure what type of animal she was going to attempt to rescue.

Upon hearing the sound of her soothing, caring voice, the animal growled loudly, mixing in pitiful whines, tugging at Cameron's heartstrings. There was no turning back now for her, this animal _would _be rescued.

She carefully stepped around the pile so the creature could see what she was planning on doing. It was never a good idea to touch an animal without them knowing what was happening, so she made sure not to spook it.

"Cameron…" House warned, watching her move carefully and slowly through the mess. His mind was focused on not only the dangers of the growling wild animal, injured or not, but also the dangers of falling glass and beams from the taller surrounding buildings.

She glanced up and held her palm up to him, signaling that she was alright. Taking another step forward, she came face to face with the injured party. She smiled as glacier-blue eyes looked up at her in a helpless cry.

"Hey there," she said soothingly, slowly reaching out her hand for smelling.

Hesitantly, it extended its head closer and inhaled the scent that surrounded her. It must've sensed her compassionate and loving nature, because its nose drew under her fingers and nudged her hand upwards; trying to get her to pet it.

Her smile widened as she ran her hand over its head for a moment; gaining its trust. After she felt like they had bonded efficiently, she grabbed at the larger stones and wooden boards that had buried it and threw them off to the side until the rest of the animal's fur came into view.

Brushing its fur with her hands, she smiled at it and coaxed it to move. "It's alright now. Can you stand up?"

As if it understood her, the canine slowly stumbled to its feet. Cameron was astonished when she noticed immediately that it was favoring its right leg and looked up at House who had been watching the whole interaction from the sidewalk.

His eyes widened and he gripped his cane like a baseball bat. "Cameron!"

She was taken aback by his sudden intense outburst and started searching everywhere around her, thinking her dream was about to come true after all. "What?"

"Don't. Move." He commanded, walking cautiously closer to the dilapidated building.

She followed his line of sight and was startled when she discovered it was the dog that had provoked his newly acquired sense of protectiveness and fear.

"Greg…what are you doing?"

The dog looked up at House and began to growl ferociously at him.

"Allison…step away from the mutt slowly," he instructed.

"House, I don't think…"

"Cameron!" he hissed through his teeth.

The dog's fur spiked on end along its spine; growls escaped from the bottom of its throat. He was far from pleased with House's angry stance and heated orders.

She looked between the dog and House. If something wasn't done soon, one of them was bound to attack the other and she had a feeling that House didn't stand a chance at winning. She slowly descended to her knees and rested on her ankles next to the dog.

"Cameron! What are you doing?" he hissed.

She glanced over to House and then back to the dog. "Hey," she sweet-talked, gaining the dog's attention. "It's alright. He's a friend."

She patted the dog's head and was awarded with wet kisses on the cheek as the dog alternated between enjoying the attention from Cameron and warningly watching House like a hawk.

She glanced down at the dog's anatomy to determine its gender. She glanced back up at the dog, laughing at the irony of being in the presence of yet another male and grinned. "You want to come with us, boy?"

"What? No!" House yelled, not wanting anything more to do with the creature.

Cameron looked at him warningly as the dog's head snapped back to House.

"House, put the cane down and stop yelling," she said calmly.

House was flabbergasted. _Put the cane down? What, is she crazy? _He continued to stare at her in disbelief, earning a glare from him that matched that of the dog. Finally giving up, but keeping himself ready in case of an attack, he sighed and lowered his walking stick to lean on.

Seeing him surrender, the dog stood up and barked, proclaiming his victory of the battle. Cameron too stood to her feet and started back around the building's remains and towards House, who was clenching to his cane. The dog slowly followed behind her out of the building and stopped short to watch her scold her male counterpart.

"Are you insane?" she asked through gritted teeth and a fake smile. "What _is _your problem, Greg? It's just a dog! And smile so he doesn't think you're angry."

He returned her forged smirk and answered. "_Just _a dog? That's not 'just a dog', Allison, dear!_ That," _he said, stressing the word, "is a Vicodin stealing death machine!"

She looked to the dog in surprise and snorted a laugh. "_This _is the dog that ate your pills?"

"_And _the dog that's currently adding me to his À la carte menu!"

"You're being aggressive and territorial; of course he's finding you a threat!"

"He's not coming with us," he said, putting his foot down.

"I beg to differ," she argued.

"Beg all you want; I'm not changing my mind," he insisted.

"Even if we tried to leave him, I don't think he'll let me go," she said.

"He doesn't have a choice in the matter," he said, his smile slipping into an authoritative scowl towards the dog. Sensing his attitude change, the dog approached Cameron's side and growled lowly. Cameron glanced down at her protector and smirked lightly, looking back up at House in surprise.

"I think it's _you _that has no choice in the matter!"

* * *

House glowered at the canine limping gratefully, but protectively in between him and Cameron while they continued down the street. She'd been right; the mutt wasn't about to leave her side for anything, most likely from the understanding that she had been the one that had helped him when he was stuck.

While they traveled, Cameron was racking her brain for a decent name for him. He had no tags and was clearly devoted to her, so she decided if no one claimed him that she would gladly take him in. Of course, it would depend on if he would be able to tolerate House. With the limp in his leg and his attachment to House's Vicodin bottle, she was horribly tempted to dub him "House" or "Greg", but she decided it'd be a bad idea to name the dog after the man he seemed to despise.

She looked down at his thick, black and white, straight but smooth coat. The dark fur that outlined his face trailed down to a low widow-type peak that stopped between his bright blue eyes. His markings bore an uncanny resemblance to some wolves she had seen on a documentary once on the Discovery Channel. It was this memory in which was used to name him.

She smiled down at the dog that occasionally looked up at his companions while walking.

"Lupus," she exclaimed proudly.

"Gesundheit," House sneered. She rolled her eyes at him and glanced down to see what the dog thought.

He glanced up at her and barked his approval.

She grinned smugly. "He likes it."

He glanced down at him. "You _like_ that? She's naming you after an incurable disease!"

As if he was surprised, the dog looked blankly back at Cameron, who laughed at his expression.

"No, I'm not naming him after the disease. 'Lupus' is Latin for 'wolf'," she explained.

Finding the situation ironic, House chuckled and looked down at their new permanent companion. "Spoken like a true immunologist. You _do _realize that for every new patient that we get, you'll be blamed for making them sick..."

As if satisfied with this, Lupus barked and licked her hand.

He shook his head. "She only wants you because you're crippled..."

Cameron laughed sharply. "_You would_ think that, wouldn't you?"

"Nope, I already know that for a fact. It's the same reason you're attracted to me."

"Greg, you're not something I pursue to 'fix'," she explained.

"But you still wish you could," he persisted.

She thought about it for a moment and nodded. "If you mean by that 'fixing you' I would like to take your pain away, then, yes. Absolutely. I would love to 'fix' you."

"But then what would you do, I wonder, when I'm all healthy?"

"I'd love you," she simply replied.

Those were the words that took him off guard and left him with nothing to say. Man, he hated not having a decent comeback for anything; especially if someone else had the upper hand, but he couldn't think of anything worth saying for his life, so he stared at the ground before him as they kept walking.

The temporary FEMA office was coming into view, much to the relief of both House and Cameron. Simply walking down the street in the hotter-than-before temperatures was weighing evenly on them. Cameron turned to House. "Do you think they'll let him inside?"

He grunted. "I doubt it. I wouldn't."

Lupus glared at him and grumbled his displeasure.

"Hey, you're a dog, not a human! Suck it up, boy," he said, approaching the door. He pulled it open and paused before entering, looking to Cameron. "Why don't you and the mongrel get something to eat; I'll only be a minute." She nodded and called the dog, leading him towards the "Food Court".

* * *

House limped up to the counter from before and slammed his hand down onto the shiny silver bell that sat on the edge. Seeing no one approach after the first ring, not that he really gave them time to respond to it, he tapped it down onto the bell, making it ring in an annoying and consistent manner. This was enough to attract the attention of the coke-bottle glassed man who had previously spoken to them.

"_Thank_ you," he said with gritted teeth, snatching the bell away from his annoying customer. "And what can I do for you, sir?"

"Well," he said, squinting to read his name tag, "Theo-"

"It's Theodore," he huffed.

"Whatever, Teddy…where's the group that's down here to clean up?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, obviously not really caring.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me."

"Oh, yeah. You're the one who tried to pawn off the blubbering, over-emotional cry-baby on me the other day," he mocked.

He narrowed his eyes at the weasel. "Look, you scummy little worm of a man…I've had it up to here with you. I want to talk to your boss. Get his monkey-suit loving arse over here!"

"He's in a meeting," he argued.

"Then drag him _out_ of it," he replied with a slam of his cane to the counter.

With an annoyed roll of his eyes, he turned around and disappeared into the back of the room where he was approached by another man. He was older; probably in his mid-late fifties, with short, white, perfectly-groomed hair and a clean-shaven face. They spoke for a moment, until Ted pointed towards the desk. The older gentleman glanced over then back at Ted, listening to him as his eyes fixed onto the wall behind him. After a few more words, he nodded and followed Ted to the counter.

"Sir, I'm Marcus Carter, Director of Disaster Assistance. What can I do to help you?"

House sighed, irritated at having to repeat himself again. "There's a group of volunteers somewhere, through you guys, who are supposed to be rebuilding this place. Where are they?"

"Volunteers?" he said aloud, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

House swore he saw a metaphorical light bulb switch on over the man's head as he exclaimed, "Oh!"

"You must be referring to the Disaster Relief workers," he concluded.

House nodded. _Finally! Someone knows what I'm talking about. Idiots…_

"Well, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but they're currently in Baton Rouge."

"Fine," he said with a nod. "You can go get the car ready and I'll go tell my girl."

He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we're unable to take you there. We have orders not to leave this post."

House glared at him, wishing him to be more helpful. "So call us a cab."

"You're going to have to find your own way there. I wish you both the best of luck," he said insincerely. With a quick nod, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Ted at the desk, the sole target for House's furious scowl.

Feeling nervous under the scrutiny of his gaze, he grabbed the "Next Window Please" sign from behind the counter and set it out for House to see. When his anger continued to be directed at him, he broke into a speed walk into another room.

House sighed, slowly shuffling his way towards the doors to the outside world that seemed to be so cruel to them. _What am I going to do now? They're all in Baton Rouge, but we're stranded here. We've got no way to get there._

A loud bark brought his attention to the people on the opposite side of the glass. Cameron was holding what looked like a ripped piece of a hot dog above Lupus's head and commanding him to do something House couldn't quite make out. As she held it farther back over him, he folded his legs underneath his body and sat obediently. This drew stringed words of praise from Cameron who was grinning wildly. She gave him the meat and bent down to his level; hugging him and petting him, letting him know how proud she was.

House quietly chuckled at the sight and found himself grinning a bit. As quickly as it formed, it disappeared; overwhelmed by the thought of having to break this rare occasion of happiness with the reality of the cold, hard truth.

_No. I have to stay optimistic about this. Someone will give us a ride; we've just got to find them…_

He took a deep breath, trying to build back up his self-confidence and pushed the door open.

He hobbled over to the table and grabbed a paper plate, looking to fill it as full as he could get it.

"Hey," said Cameron, placing her hand gently around his forearm.

His body tensed up and he hoped it hadn't been that noticeable. _Lie to her. If she asks about anything, LIE to her!_

"What'd you find out?" she pressed. The hope and optimism in her voice transformed into a physical stabbing pain to his heart and his stomach twisted in knots.

_Lie to her, Greg! Lie your arse off! Evade her questions and deny the truth! You can do it, it's just Cameron…_

His eyes mistakenly met hers and all of his excuses and evasion methods were swallowed with the bile he could taste in his throat.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't lie to her.

_Crap._


	42. As I Slip, Down In

**Chapter Forty**

**_As I Slip, Down In…_**

"Hello again, deary!" greeted the elderly lady that was serving food the day before.

"Hi," Cameron replied with a smile, approaching the table with a kind smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself yesterday." She extended her hand, "I'm Allison."

"Allison! What a lovely name for such a lovely young woman," she gushed. Putting her hand lightly to her chest, she replied, "I'm Georgia. Where's your "partner-in-crime? And, how are things going for you? I see you've made a new friend," she said, gesturing down to her four legged companion.

Her smile widened. "I did! This is…Lupus," she said, laughing at how it sounded.

The woman's brows shot up. "Well, that's a pretty distinguished name for an animal. Lupus...Lupus…" she repeated, "that's an ailment as well, is it not?"

Cameron giggled, knowing this woman must think she's crazy. "Yes, but when I named him, I named him from the animal. 'Lupus' means wolf in Latin."

"I see," she exclaimed. "Well, it certainly fits him with those beautiful markings. Is he tame?"

She shook her head. "He seems to be, but I haven't been able to see if he's trained."

The woman handed her a hot dog from the tray. "Well, here you go, let's find out, shall we?"

She gratefully took it from her and Lupus instantly smelled it; his eyes following the meat in her hand. Raising it above his head, towards his back, she commanded him to sit. Lupus gave out an attentive bark and obeyed immediately.

Cameron grinned wildly and patted his head. "Good boy! Good boy, Lupus!"

"Well done!" said the older woman. "That deserves another treat," she said, handing Cameron another hotdog. She offered it to Lupus who inhaled it immediately and wrapped her arms around him, patting him on the back.

"You keep that up and we'll run out of food in five minutes," remarked the grill cook she'd also met the day before. He approached the table and walked around them, setting down a tray of grilled hamburgers.

The old woman scoffed at him. "Bernard, do lighten up a bit. No one deserves to die of starvation."

"That's right," he grumbled, "but someone will if you keep feeding that dog."

"Oh come off it, you old fart! We have plenty to go around," she said, smiling at the canine in front of the table. "Besides, Allison and Lupus are just about the only customers who've made it over here this afternoon. Oh, but this morning, things were crazy; we were absolutely swamped!"

Bernard mumbled something and sauntered back over to his grilling station.

Georgina grinned. "You'll have to forgive him. He's basically along for the ride. I talked him into helping since he had nothing better to do than to watch me volunteer."

Cameron laughed. "I'm in sort of the same predicament. I volunteered and my…uh…friend is pretty much my shadow. Well, except for right at this moment."

She looked back at the young woman, knowingly as she saw the door to the FEMA offices open and watched her older and scruffier partner limp outside with a rather forged look of nonchalance. "Speaking of the devil…"

Cameron turned in time to see House walk slightly past her as he grabbed a paper plate from the table to start piling food onto. "Hey," she said, placing her hand gently around his forearm. She felt his entire body stiffen at her touch. She wondered if it was because she caught him off guard or if he was afraid.

Georgina lifted a lid from behind the table to assist him in shoveling out some meat. Her eyes darted back and forth between them; curious to what would happen. He stacked his lunch onto his plate and turned around to escape to eat it, when he was attacked by Cameron's big, innocent pleading eyes.

"What'd you find out?" she pressed. The hope and optimism in her voice transformed into a physical stabbing pain to his heart and his stomach twisted in knots.

She could see him internally struggling with a decision that must have been important to them. He was trying to evade the topic. She sensed it and began to worry. Her mouth fell into a deep frown. Everything about her screamed helpless and on the verge of tears.

He nodded for her to follow him as he shuffled towards a nearby picnic table and set his food down. He turned around and sat down on the bench, pulling her to sit down next to him. Resting his hands atop his cane, he tapped it on the ground, watching the rubber bottom hit the gravel.

For a few minutes, neither one of them said a word. Cameron had a feeling she knew what he was going to say and tried to ready herself for less than good news. House stared at the pavement, trying to find a way to word the situation without crushing all the hope she had left. Lupus looked back and forth between them and whined, insisting that someone tell him what was going on and why everyone looked like someone died.

"There is a group of relief workers. They're in Baton Rouge," he said when he compiled enough courage to speak.

Cameron listened intently and nodded, sensing that there was more to it than that.

"Everyone's taken shelter there since this place is about to get a second helping of crap dumped onto it."

"Can't they take us there?" she asked.

He shook his head. "That's what I asked. They have orders to stay here. No one can take us there." House attempted to look at Cameron, but the pain in her expression had him looking away immediately.

Tears formed in Cameron's eyes and her bottom lip shook as she wrung her hands. "So, that's it?"

He nodded, so slightly that she almost wasn't sure if it had really happened. He couldn't bring himself to answer in any other way.

"We're just going to stay here until the hurricane sweeps us away?" she pushed, devastated and angry.

He made no movements; his eyes focused on a small pebble in front of him. It killed him to think that, like that stupid little rock, they would be washed away by Mother Nature soon. He looked over at Cameron to see her staring back at him intensely, waiting for him to answer her.

He shrugged. "Well, we could always go back to the giant fish tank have sex…"

Cameron's eyes flashed with fury. He gulped hard. _That was probably the wrong thing to say…_

"I…can…not," she started, her voice rising in hatred, "BELIEVE YOU!"

Her loud yelling struck something negative in Lupus, sending him barking mad at the two of them, not sure which one to be angry at. She grabbed an unopened bag of potato chips from his plate and chucked it at him, followed by a sealed fruit cup.

"Hey!" he yelped in protest, throwing his arms up in front of him to defend himself from her attacks. "Stop it, Cameron!"

"Why? You deserve it; making selfish, pig-headed, insensitive suggestions like that!"

"Forgive me for not pulling you into my arms and letting you soak my shirt with snot and tears," he sneered.

"Of course not! Wouldn't want you to go _out of your way_ to _care_ about someone else for five seconds. Heaven forbid your reputation be put on the line…"

"_Go out of my way?_ I've gone out of my way for the entire duration of this trip! I've been anything _but _selfish! _I_ drove, _I_ stayed with you when you were laid up, _I_ watched you go crazy and to top it all off, _I_ walked. _Walked, _Allison! For anyone else, that wouldn't even amount to a flea's shoe size, but under the circumstances, I'd say that was pretty impressive. As for my suggestion, I was simply trying to boost the morale."

"We've been handed a death sentence and you want a romp in the hay," she argued. "Explain to me how that was supposed to raise 'the morale'."

He sniggered. "I don't know about the morale of the party, but it would definitely raise something..."

"How can you think with your…your…" she stammered, trying to find more tactful phrasing.

"Come on, say it! Say it! I love it when you say it…" he pressured, grinning his eyebrow raised in a devious arch.

Her anger turned swiftly into hatred. She didn't necessarily hate him; she just hated what he was doing to her. She folded her arms in front of her. "You want sex? Fine! Limp your smug self back down there and have a ball. Hell, have two! But know this: I won't be there and you'll be all on your own!"

He scoffed at her and leaned towards her, trying to throw her for a loop."Perfect. If there's anyone who can please a man more than a woman, it's himself!"

"Yes," she snarled, getting into his face. "I'm sure you're both VERY close!"

"Listen, _princess_-" he roared.

"Princess!? Who are you calling _Princess_?" she snapped.

Lupus ducked his head down below his shoulders and began throatily growling at House; his white sharp, shredder-like teeth showing. He knew that his mistress was being threatened and he clearly didn't like it one bit.

Bernard softly approached Georgina from behind and leaned towards her to whisper in her ear. "How long they been married?"

She shook her head, shrugging and continued to watch them have it out; hurdling threats at each other like they were in an insult war. It was sprinkled with deep and passionate anger to hide the copious amounts of sexual tension that they still had years to make up for. Through their shouting, they almost failed to hear Georgia's nervous interruption attempts. "Excuse me…"

They both turned their heads at the sound of a cleared throat. Cameron remained silent, a little embarrassed by the show they must've just put on. House, however, spoke up without an ounce of tact. "What're you lookin' at?"

Cameron turned on him again, scowling in a way that made him almost smile at how endearing it was. He forced himself to stay angry, pushing away the thought that Cameron looked like a cute little kitten with claws out and an arched back. "MUST you be so rude to everyone you meet? Maybe she has something important to say!"

He scoffed at her suggestion and glowered at the woman in front of him who stood shell-shocked. "If it's, 'You're an insensitive and ungrateful bastard', I've heard it already." Shaking his head, he turned back to his food and continued to attempt to eat in peace.

Cameron watched as he tried to slink out of the conversation. "I'll deal with _you_ later," she mumbled angrily. "I'm sorry, Georgina," she apologized, replacing her angry scowl with a sympathetic and kind look. "What was it you wanted to say?"

She glanced nervously between her and House, scared to say anything. After a moment of stuttering, she was able to spit it out. "If you have nowhere else to go, Bernard and I would be happy to give you a lift to the emergency shelter we stay at. It's just a couple of towns over."

With her words, Cameron's eyes lit up with joy and hopefulness. Forming a smile that could blind an already blind man, she glanced over and beamed at House. He glanced over to the woman and then back to Cameron again. When he pessimistically snorted through his nose at the notion of such an offer, one that sounded too good to be true, she dipped her eyebrows into each other and stuck her tongue out at him in an 'I told you so' sort of fashion. This seemed to slightly lighten the mood a bit, the tension was letting up."

He finally nodded and let out a half-smile. "Don't stick your tongue out at me unless you plan on using it. Tease."

Being in the presence of company, Cameron retracted it promptly and blushed. House looked over to the woman. "Georgette…"

"Georgina," she corrected him.

"That's what I said," he said, waving off his mistake. "Where's this shelter?"

"It's a few towns west of here called La Place."

He snickered and turned to Cameron. "A place called "The Place"…how innovative." He glanced back to their last hope. "When can we get there?"

She looked down at her watch. "We'll start packing up the truck in about a half-hour and we'll head on out." House nodded.

Cameron smiled appreciatively. "Thank you so much, Georgina. We appreciate this so much."

"Of course, dear," she replied, patting the younger woman's hand with a smile. "Not a problem. And you can call me Gina, if you'd like. It's rolls off the tongue easier." She turned on her heel and made her way back to the table to serve another relief worker who had approached the chips.

Cameron looked to House who was still eating; ignoring her. She sighed and looked around to find Lupus look up at her inquisitively. She gave him a sad half-smile and scratched his head, watching him close his dog eyes, enjoying every nail that ran through his fur.

House finished off his sandwich and turned to watch her with jealousy as she lavished all of her affection on the mutt instead of him. A faint snort from him had Lupus's eyes fly back open; he never seemed to let his guard down around the man. Cameron looked to see House sneering at the dog and sensed that he might've been a little resentful of anything that took her attention away from him, even if they were pissed at each other.

"Greg?"

"Hmm?" he grunted, looking away.

A wicked smile adorned her face. "You wanna go back to the aquarium and have sex?"

Jostled by her suggestion that mimicked the one he was just admonished for, he turned to her with his brows to his hairline in surprise; he had no idea what to say besides what his gonads were screaming at him. _Of course I do!_ "Seriously?"

"Nope," she grinned smugly, still patting Lupus on the head.

His attitude whipped from optimistic and hopeful to disappointed and severely pissed. "Then why'd you ask?"

She shrugged. "Just wondering what you'd say."

"You _know _I'd say yes!" he growled. "Women…"

Her wide smile drooped a bit, feeling a little guilty that she teased him. "Besides we have to stay here to wait for our ride."

He grumbled something she couldn't quite make out. Something about women being indecisive and evil…

Her grin of playful satisfaction dropped into a look of seriousness at his current attitude change. "Is it _really _killing you _that bad_?"

"I'm only human, Cameron! I have _feel-ings_, you know," he stressed sarcastically. "You can't just dangle the idea of you naked in front of me and then take it back at the drop of a hat!"

She grinned. "Why not?"

"Because it's unfair and hurtful!" he argued.

"Since when are _you _all about what's fair?"

"Always, when it's unfair to _me_!"

She considered this. "Yeah, that's probably true enough. But painful?" She looked at him in disbelief. "Come on, House. Be serious…"

He glared at her. "Remember the trip to Wal-Mart and your little pill-swapping revenge?"

"You mean the retaliation that you rightfully deserved?" she cut in.

He shook his head. "When I said "painful", I was referring to the _effects _of said retaliation."

She blushed.

He continued. "No man, and I mean absolutely_ no_ man, deserves a "soldier at attention" for that long!"

"Oh, I see."

He smirked. "Yeah, you did. You saw a lot more than that. And you loved it…"

Her blushed deepened, here eyes shifting around to everything but him. She cleared her throat. "I-I'm going to run to the bathroom." She made a move to head into the office building. Opening the door, she stepped inside and turned to her immediate right, heading for the Women's restroom.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," said one of the clerks at the counter.

Cameron turned to see him staring at her intently, making her feel uneasy. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he insisted.

Her brows knit together and she pointed to the marked door. "But…I just came in to use the restroom."

"That, ma'am is not the problem. We don't allow animals in the building."

She mouth gaped at his rude comment. "_Excuse _me_?_"

He nodded. She followed his line of sight and jumped slightly at the sight of Lupus obediently sitting next to her. "Oh! I'm sorry, he must've followed me in here." She opened the door and whistled to House who looked up at her and watched her hold the door open. "House?"

"What?"

"Call the dog."

He snorted. "Why? He hates me."

"Please," she begged.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Dog! Here dog!"

"Greg!" she warned.

He rolled his eyes. "Lupus! Come here, Lupus!" _Boy, do I sound like an idiot, _he thought.

She shook her head when the dog made no movement.

"See? I told you he didn't like me."

She sighed and let go of the door, glancing back at the clerk who was looking the dog over. "Sir, I'm sorry, but he doesn't seem to want to leave."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't allow the dog to be in here. You're going to have to leave."

"He doesn't bite and I really have to use the bathroom. If he goes into the bathroom with me," she bargained, "where I can keep an eye on him, will you let us go?"

He weighed the options. "Fine. As long as he stays with you at all times."

She nodded. "Thank you," she said appreciatively, running into the bathroom. Turning around to close the door, she noticed Lupus standing in the door way.

"C'mon, boy," she coaxed, "you're almost there."

Lupus didn't move an inch. Instead, he turned around and sat outside the door, guarding the bathroom, daring anyone to try to enter. The clerk watched curiously and then filed back to his desk.

Assuming that this was acceptable, Cameron commanded him to stay and slowly shut the door, running into one of the stalls to relieve herself.

A few minutes later, she washed her hands and fixed her hair and face in the mirror.

Taming her hair and splashing cold water on her face, she patted it dry and opened the door to leave when she heard someone yelling and a low growling from the other side of the door. Pulling on the handle, the door cracked open to reveal Lupus in a semi-pouncing stance, growling at the same clerk who had tried to shoo them out earlier.

She pulled it open the rest of the way; the squeal of the hinges caught the canine's attention and pulled him from his protective mode. His head turned to see Cameron and just as he set eyes on her, he stood up and circled his way behind her and up next to her side, ready to leave. Her eyes widened in surprise, shocked at his guarding attitude towards her. She looked back up at the man. "Is everything okay?"

He shook his head. "We had a female employee wish to use the facility and your _mangey mutt_," he sneered, earning him a fierce sounding growl, "wouldn't let her in!"

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, looking down at her side. Lupus looked up at her with a false look of innocence she only saw in one other place. She couldn't help but grin when he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, panting smugly, as if to say, "Who me?" She headed towards the front door. "Thanks again," she nodded at the clerk. Opening the door, she glanced back to see Lupus still sitting there, looking up at the man who didn't seem like a threat, but was entertaining to scare to him.

She chuckled. "C'mon, _House_."

Lupus barked in finality at the man and trotted up to Cameron and out the door.

When the door closed, she clapped her hands together and praised him for being such a great guard dog. She certainly felt comfortable and safe around him. Lupus playfully jumped up on her and knocked her back, sending her stumbling to the ground, laughing. He danced around her body; barking, trying not to be caught in the bear hug she was sure to trap him in.

She laid flat against the ground, unmoving, waiting for him to get close enough. He curiously inched closer to her, sniffing her still form, trying to make sure she was still alive. When she made no movement, this evidently upset him, causing him to whine and whimper. With still no movements made by Cameron, he leaned his muzzle next to her face and started to lick her cheek.

She lifted one eye discretely open to find House watching them; clearly amused by the way she was able to get along with such a bitter and snappy animal.

Unable to lie still any longer, and slightly grossed out from the feeling of the dog drool that remained from his licks, she snapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. He tried to back up with the power of his hind legs, but it was no use; he was stuck. He growled lightly and struggled to get away. When that didn't work, he resorted to licking her again. This time, his kisses got sloppy enough to earn him an escape.

House snorted in his chair across the parking lot-type patio. Hearing this, Lupus looked up to see him staring him in the eye. Realizing that the attention was on him, his playful attitude turned sober. He circled her side a couple of times and finally lay down; resting his chin on her left thigh.

Sensing that she wasn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon, she let her head fall back down and closed her eyes, feeling Lupus's chest heave against her leg. Pushing out of her mind all of the stress from the events that had taken place, the sound of his doggie breathing quickly lulled her into a soft, shallow nap.

* * *

A woodpecker was attacking her stomach.

Or at least, that's what it felt like; a continuous stabbing motion right above her hip bone.

Cameron opened her eyes and slammed them shut immediately, blinded by the sun shining brightly into her sensitive eyes. Shielding the sun out of them with a raised hand, she blinked her sleep away and found the "woodpecker" aimed at her abdomen, ready to strike again. She laughed at the thought. _Well, his cane is made of wood_…

"House? What do you want?"

"Time to rise and shine, Snow White," he smirked, standing over her. "We've got a magic carpet ride to catch."

She ran a hand over her face and yawned before trying to get up. She noticed her leg was still warm, meaning Lupus was still lying on it. Pushing herself to sit up, she brushed off her arms and her shirt and waiting for Lupus to get up before standing. Yawning, too, he stood up and stretched out until his muscles shook.

She took in her changed surroundings. The tables had been neatly folded up, the chairs were gone and the last of the food was being loaded into the back of a large, white cargo van. Bernard stacked the food, making room for them in the back. Georgina walked out of the office building and headed for the van. "Come along, you three. We're heading out!"

"Three?" House questioned with a quirked brow.

She nodded. "You, Allison and Lupus."

"No!" he practically shouted. "The dog stays," he stated firmly, looking at Cameron.

"He's mine and I say he goes," she replied, defiantly.

"He's not yours. He's just a stray someone dumped off. Now, get in the van, we're leaving before we get flushed away."

She folded her arms. "No."

"Cameron…" he snarled, "so help me, if you don't get in this van right now, I'll cane you so hard you won't be able to sit for weeks!"

She stood her ground with the same passion he's only seen at work when she was adamant about her diagnosis or her beliefs when it came to ethics or a patient. "Not. Without. Lupus."

"VAN...NOW!" he roared, "OR WE'LL LEAVE WITHOUT YOU!"

"FINE!" she screamed back at him, her breath hitting his face, her hands clenched tightly in fists by her side. "LEAVE!"

The two workers exchanged glances, daring the other to speak up first.

House grabbed her by the forearm and shoved her towards the back door of the van. She stumbled slightly and reluctantly climbed into the van, sitting on a case of canned vegetables. Before House could climb in, Lupus ran across the lot and jumped into the back, climbing onto a cooler. He pointed his cane at the disabled stray.

"YOU! OUT!" he shouted. Growling, he made no effort to move.

House reached out his hand to grab onto his collar, Lupus snarled and snapped at him; baring all of his teeth like a rabid wolf.

"Lupus!" Cameron rebuked, pointing a finger at him. "No biting!"

He whined, having disappointed her and laid down, his head on his front paws, but his eyes never leaving House. She turned to him. "Greg, would you get into the van before these nice people change their minds about letting us ride with them?"

"Fine," he griped, "only because I'm being voted off the island if I refuse."

She nodded and sighed as he climbed into the van and pulled the door shut. Cameron nodded to Georgina. "I'm sorry about that. We're ready to go when you are."

"It's alright," she nodded, giving Bernard the signal to start driving.

At that moment, they all had the same thought. This was going be one long hell'uva ride.


	43. I Think Of Someplace High On A Mountain

A/N: I apologize if Cameron came off as too much of a witch in the last chapter, but believe me, when you're stranded in a doomed city and most of said things in previous chapters actually occurred to you, I think a brief period of snappishness is allowed. It's uncommon, but not impossible for Cameron to get angry and witchy (i.e. Deception), but I think I might've made her seem a little _too angry _at House. I mean, after all, she _is_ in love with the guy…

* * *

**Chapter Forty-One**

**_I Think Of Someplace High On A Mountain…_**

_As soon as we get there, I'm heading straight for a vet clinic that euthanizes animals…_

_You come near me again and I'll tear out your voice box!_

_They'd believe that... He's injured; therefore, he's suffering. Let's put him out of his misery…_

_You come near her again and I'll rip out a chunk of your other thigh muscle!_

_Mutt…_

_Cripple…_

Cameron's eyes danced between House's irate stare and Lupus's threatening glances. No talking was necessary when looks that could kill were being passed between the two.

_And all because of me, _she thought, heaving a sigh.

Sure, it was nice to have House care about her, but not when it became a competition between him and someone else; especially a dog. Of course, Lupus was far from being just a dog, for his personality was so similar to the man, it's most likely the reason neither one of them seemed to get along. Two negatives don't make a positive...

She quietly snorted. Most girls would be thrilled at the idea to have two males fighting over them. The only problem was that she was really hoping that she could have her boyfriend and her dog, too. Although, she was a very strong and patient woman to be able to deal with the likes of a man like House, it made her wonder if she'd be able to handle two of him.

She watched House glowering on a case near the door, still shooting daggers at the canine that seemed to be him in an alternative species form. Lupus growled lowly occasionally when he felt it was necessary, but with one comforting stroke from Cameron, his anger was almost forgotten; replaced with a grateful lick to the hand. Feeling the impulsive need for affection, he used his muzzle to pry his head under her hand and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

House found his rage diminishing into puzzlement as he watched the bad-tempered creature react positively and lovingly to such a simple action on Cameron's part. She offered him a modest massage of the head and he responded with a desire for further warmth and care from her. His brows slanted into each other as he contemplated the puzzle that sat before him. Was this the way he reacted towards her, too? He watched in amazement at how the wild and embittered beast remained that way to everyone besides him, but seemed to soften and relax in her embrace, while remaining constantly on guard and by her side.

Just like House would.

Lupus stumbled into Cameron a bit as the van took a sharp turn. Deciding he'd be safer lying down, he folded his hind legs underneath him and plopped down next to her, resting his head on her thigh. He let out a long sigh and relaxed into a comfortable position.

Cameron leaned back against the wall and got as comfortable as she could. She continued to subconsciously pet Lupus while her eyes were busy trying to console the other male in her life. Her sympathetic gaze seemed to soothe and calm him enough to unclench and relax a bit as he held it, not wanting to look away.

"We're almost there!" Georgia exclaimed excitedly from the front seat.

Bernard made another quick turn, sending a case of soda toppling over onto House's bad thigh.

"Argh!" he hissed through clenched teeth. The pain was so excruciating that it created spots behind his closed eyes. He shoved the case away and gripped his leg with his hand.

Cameron gasped and Lupus's head shot up.

With his left hand, House dug into his pocket to retrieve his Vicodin. The first thing he noticed when he removed it from his jeans was that it failed to make its usual rattle- or _any_ rattle for that matter.

Dread started to seep into him as he lifted the bottle to the light and confirmed his suspicions; it was empty. Furious and frustrated by the situation, he let out a cry that could easily be compared to the scream of a warrior and slammed the orange vial across from him and into the side of the truck.

"Oh, dear!" cried Georgia, her hand over her rapidly beating heart.

"What the-?" Bernard said, alternating his attention between driving and the activity going on in the cargo area.

Sensing something bad was happening, Lupus jumped down from the case he was laying on and stepped over to Cameron's bag. Sinking his teeth into the handle at the top, he tugged backwards on it until his hind legs collided with hers. He met her eyes and whimpered, using his head to smartly direct her attention to it.

She looked at the dog with suspicious eyes, but bent over and pulled it up onto her lap and opened it. That's when it dawned on her that she still had Valium in her bag. She glanced back down at him in awe, her jaw dropping slightly. _Could he really know that House was in need to pills? How did he know where they were? Maybe it's just a coincidence. _Curious, Cameron set the open bag back down on the ground and waited, watching his every move. House was about to snap at her, wondering what she was up to, when Lupus approached the bag again and sniffed around. When the right scent was picked up, he pulled an orange cylinder from the backpack and trotted over to House.

"I'm not in the mood to play "Torture the Cripple!" he snapped lowly, still griping his leg.

"House…" Cameron started, hesitantly, her eyes focused solely on Lupus.

"What?" he seethed, turning to look at her.

"I-I think he's trying to _give_ it to you!"

He narrowed his eyes at the mutt before him. When he made no move to take it from him, the canine set it down on the ground and barked at House; nudging the bottle with his nose. When he tried to lean forward to grab it, the damaged muscle in his thigh stiffened, causing him to snap back into his previous sitting position, groaning in misery.

With his teeth carefully locked around the cap, Lupus picked the plastic jar back up and moved towards House, stopping in between his legs and looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Wearily, House reached his hand out for the pills, expecting the dog to retreat with them once again. To his surprise, when he laid his palm out flat underneath the bottle, Lupus dropped it into his hand without any further quarrel.

House glanced at the bottle. Valium.

Slight amazement washed over his face, joining the suspicion that was already residing there. Popping the cap off, he shook a couple into his hand, threw his head back; swallowing them, and recapped it, holding it out for the dog to take back. Instead, it was regarded with distaste, so he stuffed it into his pocket.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Feeling as if they had approached some kind of unspoken truce, the tension in the truck seemed to dissipate as Lupus made a U-turn around his left leg and rested his head near his left knee. House glanced over at Cameron to see if she had seen this unusual happening occur. He found her eyes glued to them both in amusement and a slight hint of relief. Feeling more comfortable, she leaned her head against the wall of the truck and looked out the window, watching cars go by. House laid back and rested his palm on the crown of Lupus's head, hoping they would make it there soon.

* * *

A few more turns and a couple of blocks away, the van pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned strip mall, full of Salvation Army trucks and tents set up as their headquarters. There was a large brown building in front of them which looked like it had been previously used as a grocery store, a smaller empty building connected to it, and a Dollar General at the end.

Bernard slowed the truck to a stop in the parking lot and killed the engine, taking the keys out of the ignition and looking over at Georgia and in the back towards his passengers. "Well, we're here!"

House snorted. "It might help to know where "here" is." He grabbed his cane and moved to exit the vehicle as fast as he could. Cameron climbed out of the van behind him and stopped short, almost colliding with House's back.

"You've GOT to be kidding me!" he groaned.

"What is it?" asked Cameron, looking around, not able to automatically pinpoint the problem.

"It's a shopping mall turned synagogue," he replied distastefully.

"Come again?"

"It's a _religious_ emergency shelter."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.

"What's _wrong_ with that? Everything! It means that it's going to be run by _God-fearing Christians_!" He turned around to face her. "That doesn't scare you?"

She shook her head. "Why would it? It makes sense for people who have an ounce of humility to help other people, especially in a time of crisis."

"What happened to your atheistic principles?" he asked, confused and curious.

Cameron rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be an atheist to believe there is good in people." She looked at him sideways and grinned. "What's wrong? Does the thought of religious people frighten you?"

He shook his head. "I am not frightened by anything. It's the building that repels me."

Her brows scrunched. "Why the building?"

"It's consecrated ground. I might burst into flames if I step foot onto it.

"Probably," she playfully agreed, grabbing him by the wrist and started walking towards the building. "C'mon. If they're forgiving enough, maybe they'll even let _you_ stay the night."

"You think they'll show some sympathy for the Devil?" he asked with an arched brow.

"Why not?" she smiled slightly, "I did and look where it got me."

He snorted and followed her. "Stranded and left for dead. Way to look on the bright side there, Cam."

Approaching the makeshift shelter, they were greeted by an older grey-haired, middle-aged gentleman who was more than eager to welcome them, but extending his hand for them to shake.

"Hi! I'm Ryan Stevenson, the pastor here at New Hope Church," he introduced himself, shaking Cameron's hand. Reaching for House's, he quickly learned like everyone else that this man did not shake hands, and put it back down at his side, nodding his head. With a smile, he turned his attention over to his more optimistic partner. "Well, welcome to La Place. You folks need a place to seek refuge?"

Cameron answered for them both. "Yes, that'd be great."

He nodded. "Well, look no further! We only have a few simple rules to staying here."

"Here we go…" House mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Shutdown's at ten p.m. Breakfast is served from six to nine; lunch is from noon to one and dinner is from five to six. We simply ask that you try to keep profanity to a minimum, what with the small children we have here, and please do not use the Lord's name in vain."

"I warned 'em about the mutt," Bernard chimed in, walking up from behind them.

Cameron looked longingly at Lupus, wishing so badly that he could stay with them. She didn't want to loose him after everything they'd been through to get where they were. She turned her pleading features to House who simply glared back, as if it to communicate that there was nothing he could do about it. She soon discovered that if she wanted to keep him, she'd have to fight for him herself.

"Please…do you have some cots we could use outside?"

Pastor Stevenson's heart threatened to melt into a blob at her heartfelt affection and love for this creature. Before he could answer, House spoke up first.

"What do you mean _we_? _I'm_ not sleeping outside so we can keep the disease!"

Cameron turned to him and sighed. "Fine, I'll sleep outside with him." Glancing back at the minister with her full-blown puppy dog eyes, she continued to beg for the life of her canine companion. "Perhaps you might just have a pillow I could use?"

He shook his head in awe. "You mean to tell me, Missus?"

"Cameron," she supplied, and pointed to House, "and that's Greg."

He nodded. "Well, Mrs. Cameron," he parroted, "you're willing to sleep out here on the hot, humid, uncomfortable ground just so you can keep the dog with you?"

Cameron swallowed hard at being called "_Mrs. Cameron_" again for the first time in years and gulped as the reality of her nightly environment added to her already nauseated feeling, but nodded in affirmation.

House tapped his cane against the parking lot asphalt. "She's a little special. Unfortunately, she forgot her helmet at home."

Ryan chuckled at House's comment and smiled at Cameron. "Well, Missus Cameron, don't you fret. Animals are a part of God's creation, too! _Wo-man_'s best friend is allowed in here, as long as he's leashed."

Cameron's face lit up at the news, while House started to brood. "Well, I don't have one yet, but if you'll give me a few minutes, I think I could find one at the dollar store next door. Would you excuse me?"

They nodded and watched her eagerly power walk next door, Lupus following obediently behind her. House's gaze trailed them until Cameron and Lupus disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Inside the store, Cameron dug around inside her jean pocket and pulled out the few dollars she had left. She browsed through the aisles until she found one that displayed pet items.

Pet food and bedding littered the shelves, trying to catch her attention away from the products she was after.

She soon found them and skimmed through them.

_Ok, first; material. Should I go with leather or nylon?_ She checked the price on both. Nylon seemed to be the cheaper choice, but was still nice and sturdy when it came to strength.

_Material: check. Now, the next issue is size._ Lupus was going to need one long enough to encircle his neck and, at least, two fingers worth of breathing area in it. They came in four sizes: Puppy, Small Breed, Medium Breed and Large Breed.

Glancing at the back, the diagram showed that the largest collar they made would be suitable for the job.

_And finally; color. Oh, the agony of choice!_ She thought, blowing air from slightly puffed cheeks.

There were dozens of colors to choose from, but none of them looked like they would do anything for him.

* * *

Meanwhile...

House reluctantly followed the minister into the building, ducking greetings and warm sentiments of welcome. Right inside the door was a small entrance hall lined with pamphlets and information regarding disaster relief and support groups for people who may have problems. Aside from the informational tables, it was a faint reminder that this place had clearly once been a grocery store; he could easily imagine shopping carts folded into each other in two separate long lines.

Half-way down the hall, they arrived at a double set of automatic, glass-paned doors that led to what had been transformed into a sanctuary and was now being used as a giant dorm. Old olive drab army cots were set up in between the occasional padded sanctuary chair. Seeing all the people around had him wishing he and Cameron had been the only ones around.

_Well_, he breathed taking in the appearance of the other homeless occupants, _it's a good thing I've got Allie._ If the fate of the human race was left up to him and she had to be left out of the equation, it would die out before he slept with anyone here. Of all the other females in the room, they were too short, too young, or not attractive enough for him. Although, he considered Cameron to be young as well, those who remained were much, _much_ younger.

"We'll, Mr. Cameron, we'll get you and your wife some cots set up," he replied. House turned around to correct him, but he was already gone.

* * *

After carefully taking the selection of canine accessories into consideration, she lifted a black nylon collar and leash from the shelf and headed for the front counter.

The cashier rang up her items and smiled at Cameron. "That'll be $4.16, please."

Nodding, she handed her five one dollar bills, took her change after thanking the cashier and pushed her way through the front door. As it swung open, Lupus clumsily jumped up onto his hind legs, putting his weight on his left side and leaned onto Cameron, letting her put his new collar on. Clipping the side, she attached the leash and began leading him back to the shelter, throwing the plastic bag away in a trash can located on the side of the building.

She studied him as they walked. His limp was still obvious, but less pronounced. It made her wonder if he would need surgery for it considering they had no idea to the extent of damage done to his right leg. He seemed to be proficient in keeping up with her, balanced on the other three, so it was clear that nothing major was broken. She hoped that they could get him looked at when they found their way home.

Glancing back up, she was slightly startled to find that they were only a few feet from the front door now. She led him through the first two sets and found the main room filled with people who were sadly in the same boat they were; alone with nothing left but hope. Surveying the large crowd, she was unable to find House in the mass of bodies, it was like playing "Where's Waldo?" and the odds we're 1/1000.

She patted Lupus on the head and knelt down, balancing on her ankles. She looked him in the eye and said, "I'm counting on you, boy. Go find Greg."

Lupus looked blankly at her, as if she was speaking in a foreign language.

"Come on, boy!" she encouraged him with an added hint of fake enthusiasm, as if the high pitch of her voice would excite him. Unfortunately for her, the dog simply licked her face; not even tempted to move. She frowned. "Hmm. Maybe you just need a scent to track."

She searched her clothes, but found nothing that held his particular smell. Then she remembered that she had grabbed onto his wrist earlier. Bringing her hand to her face, she sniffed her skin.

_Eau de House_. It was faint, but still there.

She closed her eyes, smiling at the memories the aroma triggered. Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of her slight daze and held her hand under Lupus's nose. She remembered learning somewhere that dogs could discriminate odor concentrations nearly 100 million times lower than humans can.

He sniffed her hand for a moment, giving her the idea that he would take it and run with it, but instead he turned away. She sighed and gave him a sad little smile. "Sorry. I know you're not a bloodhound." She looked around. "There's just, so many people here. In this crowd, it'll be hard to find House."

Instinctively, the words "find House" registered like a Pavlovian response; as if they had been demanded as commands and, upon hearing this, Lupus pulled on the leash, limping around the large room, sniffing at the air, trying to determine which direction the smell was coming from. After walking him around for a moment, he began to get tangled around the legs of the chairs and cots. When he had wrapped himself around on, she unhooked the leash to unwind it. Lupus used this moment to escape and darted across the room as fast as his three good legs would take him.

When Cameron caught up with him, she found him lying on top of a cot along with House's backpack. Next to it, an identical cot was set up directly next to it, like a conjoined twin. She grinned at his innate way of understanding her through the species gap between them.

Approaching the cot, she snapped the leash back onto the collar and hooked the handle underneath a leg of the other cot. With a quick sweep of the room, she found frowned once more; House was nowhere in sight. Shrugging, she collapsed onto the cot in exhaustion and got comfortable. She stared at the ceiling for a few moments before closing her eyes. She couldn't help but wonder…

_What's going to happen to us?_

_Will we ever get home?_

_Where is-?_

"What did I tell you about the dog not sleeping in bed with us?" he smirked, his shadow looming over her.

"Absolutely nothing. We haven't had that fight yet," she answered, only opening one lazy eye to look at him.

His brows dip in confusion. "Are you sure? I swear I've kicked him off the bed before."

"It's a cot, House."

"It's still where I sleep," he reinstated.

She dropped her hand on the floor next to the cot leg and pulled on the leash. "Down, boy."

At the feeling of a tug, he made it to his feet, climbed down and laid on the floor, next to Cameron.

"There, happy?" she sneered.

"Never," he remarked, smugly, laying himself down on his cot.

Soon, the lights were turned out and most of the room was asleep.

"Cameron?" House whispered.

"What?"

"Don't wake me up earlier than noon."

She half-laughed, half-snorted at the idea of him rising while the sun was still up.

"Like you could," she replied, closing her eyes again.

"Cameron?"

"What?"

"I need a nightlight."

"Shut up and go to sleep, House."

Cameron waited for him to speak again. When he didn't, she relaxed and closed her eyes.

After a slight shuffle, Cameron felt warm air hitting her cheek.

"Cameron!" he stage whispered, harshly, startling her from her bought of relaxation and causing her to jump.

"House! What?" she growled, glaring venomously at him.

He grinned and leaned over to plant a soft, quick kiss on her forehead. "Night."

Stunned, she watched him turn over on his cot and completely relax into it. After a moment of rewinding and playing back what just happened, she smiled in delight and relaxed into her own cot, her head resting on her folded arm.

They're not hungry. They're not wet. They're not drowned. They haven't been blown away.

They're safe.

For right now; that's all that matters.

* * *

**Review, PLEASE! :D Is this helping anyone else through thier Hameron withdrawals while the Huddy and Chameron is going around like the plague?**


	44. The Smoke Clears, The Fog Lifts

A/N: Thank you for all the awesome reviews! I know what you're thinking: It's been FOREVER! I lost my muse because it's been hard for me to keep them in character, so I am referring back to the "good ol' days" (Seasons 1-2.99, I purposely did that to exclude Cameron's visit to Chase's apt. at the end of the last episode) to bask in what was the greatest sexual tension/possible relationship to hit primetime television. Too bad the writers don't see it that way…

Anyway, on with the story!

* * *

Chapter Forty-Two: The Smoke Clears, The Fog Lifts

Morning came way too soon for Cameron.

She was awakened by the feeling of something soft and wet sliding against her lips in a repetitive motion. Without opening her eyes, she grumbled. "Stop…quit it!"

Her low, hoarse voice was sharp enough to rip House from an amusing dream of strippers, alcohol and a pain-free existence; in his eyes, the way a medical conference SHOULD go. Sometime in the middle of the night, his leg had started to annoy him, throbbing twice as hard as it normally did when he slept. Seeing the circumstances of their current situation, however, he chalked it up to the cot simply being the ruddy problem. Squinting, he found Cameron hanging half-way off her cot, with her cheek pressing into the edge and her arm draped off the side and down onto the floor.

Lupus stood in front of her, licking her mouth, trying to wake her up. House grinned as his mind took to imagining how she'd react had she been awake for that doggy-styled gesture of affection. When this did nothing to disturb her but irritate her a bit, Lupus resorted to longer licks across her face; mainly focused on her nose and mouth. The arm that she'd let fall to the floor rose and swatted at the air.

"Go away, Chase, I don't like you like that," she mumbled.

House's grin spread wider and he couldn't help but let out an audible chuckle.

Suddenly, the fact that "Chase" was kissing her brought the question to her mind of where House was and why they were back in the hospital. Her forehead creased in confusion and after another slopping pass over her mouth, her eyes jolted open to see an innocent-looking Lupus dancing in front of her, eager to get her up.

Wait…Lupus…not Chase…kiss…slobber!

"Argh!" she shrieked, furiously wiping off her mouth with her upper arm. Hearing a faint laughing, she turned to see House taking amusement from the situation he found so endlessly entertaining.

She glared at him. "What're you looking at?"

"The recipient of a mouthful of germs and bacteria, evidently. I wish I had a camera on me," he teased. "It was a real Kodak moment."

"You wouldn't know a Kodak moment if it stared you in the face or bit you in the butt," she sneered.

"On the contrary, they're usually accompanied by soft melodies to let you know when to start caring and to turn on the waterworks."

She brushed off his comments with an eye-roll and looked around, noticing the room was fairly empty. "Where is everyone? And what time is it?"

He looked at the clock on the wall above the front door. "Ten thirty."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Ten thirty? I overslept!"

"And I under slept. We should just turn back over and go back to sawing sheep and counting logs, don't you think?"

"It's counting sheep and sawing logs, House."

"Clearly, my dreams are a lot more violent than yours," he said, crossing one ankle over the other. "Besides, what's the point in counting sheep?"

"It lets your mind wind down while focusing on one simple task," she said, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side.

"Counting imaginary fleece dogs doesn't really work for brilliant minds like mine."

"So what does?"

"Strippers."

"Figures," she snorted, standing to her feet.

"Where are you going?" he asked in alarm, moving to sit up.

She unlatched Lupus's leash from the leg of her cot. "To eat. Would you like to join us?"

"I doubt they'll take too kindly to flea-infested canines around the food. They might have some weird health code violation about that around here."

"And you would know?"

"Being knowledgeable of health codes is the first step to breaking them," he smirked.

"If it's a rule, I'm sure you've broken it." She adjusted the leash in her hand. "So, breakfast?"

"Lunch," he corrected, standing to his feet, "but since you're buying…"

She mock-glared at him. "We're in an emergency shelter, House. It's free."

"Well then, in that case, this is not considered as a formal meal and you can make it up to me when we get home," he said, headed for the door. Shaking her head in amusement, Cameron followed him with Lupus right next to her, wondering if he had meant food…

"What in the name of Clinic Duty is that?" House shrieked.

Cameron looked up from her plate to see him grimacing at the contents on it from across the table. She frowned at him. "It's called a salad, House."

"It's green."

"It's nutritional."

"It's grass."

"It's a leaf vegetable."

"Last time I checked, you weren't a rabbit."

"Thanks for clearing that up and I'm sure it won't be the last time you check," she grinned mischievously.

"It's cud." He fought to hide his own evil smirk. "Sounds like Cuddy, I know, but tastes just the same, I'm sure…"

"Oh, it does," she drawled out salaciously with a slow wink and a sly grin.

His eyes went wide momentarily before narrowing at her, trying to determine how much truth was to that statement. Probably less than he'd hoped. "You don't know…"

"I don't, huh?" she challenged with an arched brow.

"Do you?" he pressed, this time slightly less sure of his statement.

"I don't know. Do I?"

"I doubt it."

"You do, do you?"

"Don't do that," he glared at her for trying to evade the question."

"Do what?"

"Enough with the 'do's!" he growled, too hungry and tired to think.

"Done," she smirked, feeling triumphant over mentally tripping him up. It was a rare occasion, but this negative outcome of their trip was really taking a toll on them all; physically and mentally. "This is delicious."

"No," he said, pointing to his own plate with his fork. "This is delicious. That," he said, pointing at her plate again, "is an abomination."

"Fine; I give up. It's cow fodder. At least I'm not eating the actual cow."

"Nope, just something I'm sure the heifer took a nice big dump on."

She sighed in frustrated disgust and threw down her fork onto her plate. "Thanks, I was enjoying that."

"Anytime," he smirked triumphantly.

"So, what's the plan for today?" she asked, hoping there would be something enlightening.

House stabbed at his piece of steak. "I'm going to find a landline and see if Cuddles has found us a ticket home yet."

"And where are you going to find a phone?" she asked skeptically, looking around the place.

"I know people," he said, finishing off the last bite on his plate. Standing from the table, he earned apprehensive gazes from both of his travel partners.

"You're leaving?" she asked nervously.

"I gotta use the little crippled boys' room. Be right back," he said, limping out of the cafeteria and outside, down towards the main building.

Cameron patted Lupus on the head, who was sitting next to her. "Well, boy, let's hope this call actually works. I just want to get home already." Barking in agreement, Lupus reveled in the feel of Cameron's hand rubbing through his thick fur as she went back to finishing off her lunch in a sea of strange people.

* * *

"Hey!" House shouted at Pastor Stevenson as he was talking to another stranded couple. He took notice of the crippled man coming towards him and excused himself.

"Good afternoon! What can I do for you, Mr. Cameron?"

"I need a phone," he said, intentionally ignoring the mistake once again, "Where can I find one?"

"Why, I've got one in my office you could use," he offered. "Follow me."

He led House down the hall to a door with a plague on the front labeled "Office". Unlocking it, he pushed the door open and turned on the light, pointing to the phone.

"There it is. Just lock up when you're done," he said, smiling before he left the room.

House nodded and hobbled over to the desk. Deciding to snoop when he was done, he picked up the receiver and dialed the same number he used to call the next day when he'd had too much to drink the night before.

"Princeton- Plainsboro Teaching Hospital…"

"Patch me into your evil leader."

"Oh my-" There was a moment of shocked silence. "House?"

"Not yours, Medusa."

"I've never been so happy to hear from you."

"What a coincidence; I've never been happy to hear from you, either and I doubt that will ever change."

"Are…ar-are you okay? We've been worried sick!" she stuttered.

"About Cameron, no doubt."

"Mostly," she confessed, as they jumped into their usual banter. "How are you guys doing? Where are you?"

"We're fine. Look, I don't have time to feed the starving rumor mill right now. Give me Cuddy."

"Isn't Dr. Cameron enough for you?" she quipped.

"CUDDY… NOW!" he demanded harshly.

She sighed. "One moment," she replied, placing the call on hold, leaving House to suffer from the same annoying elevator music that played when he put everyone else on hold.

"Coming up on the News at Noon…Hurricane Rita makes its way to the coast, causing problems for military and civilian relief workers…" announced a well-dressed anchorwoman.

Similar news stories had kept Wilson and Cuddy up most of the night, leaving them emotionally exhausted. Both lying on Wilson's leather couch, which Cuddy also had the boys move into House's office, Wilson had just squinted and opened his eyes to discover that he and Cuddy had passed out before a voice came over the intercom system...

"Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House is on line one. Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House is on line one…"

Wilson sprang from the couch at the first mention of House's name and lunged for the phone. The quick movement of the cushion's movement woke Cuddy in time to hear Wilson.

"Hello? House?" Wilson demanded frantically.

"Ah, the fearless Boy Wonder! I was expected your mistress, but her minion will do…"

"House! Oh my- you have no idea how long we've been waiting to hear from you!" he exclaimed, switching from the receiver to the speaker.

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes in sarcasm, "step back to relish and savor the moment, because I need someone to get off their lazy administrator butt and get us out of here!"

"House, what do you think we've been doing, dressing in leis and doing the hula? Downing a keg and smacking around a piñata? " Cuddy snapped in irritability, but mostly in relief to hear his voice.

"Who's wearing the cocoanut bra, the Aussie or the Dark One?"

"You know blondes look better in grass skirts," Wilson bantered back.

House smirked. "Oh really? How about that brunette at-"

"Hey!" Cuddy interrupted, "can we talk less about bimbos and more about your ticket home?"

"There's the Cuddy we all know and love…to fantasize about."

"House!" she admonished.

His voice lowered and became serious. "How do we get home?"

"There's a bus station, a Greyhound Station-" she started to explain.

"Oh, no! We've been down this route before...I will not be surrounded by 'Dead Janitors Walking' again."

"What?"

"Apparently in New Orleans, the requirement to be a janitor is twenty-five to life."

"This is not in New Orleans. It's in Baton Rouge."

"Baton Rouge? We couldn't make it there earlier, but now that we're thirty five miles further away, you want us to go there again."

"It's the closest bus station, House. It's…the only chance you've got."

A deep silence draped over them, all lost in their own thoughts and the reality of what their situation was.

Finally, after a few minutes of pondering, House spoke up. "How long do we have to get there?"

Cuddy checked the sheet of paper she had compiled a list of times on. "The last bus of the day departs from Baton Rouge at 12:45 and arrives in Atlantic City at 9:55 tomorrow. I can get you two tickets if you can get there."

"Is there any closer to where we lost the hotrod and the soccer mom-mobile?"

"We'll arrange for the vehicles to be picked up later on. Right now, let's just focus on getting you and Cameron back here."

"Fine. Book us two magic carpets."

"But, House, what if you can't-"

"We'll make it," he reiterated. "Now, get out of my office. It better be spotless by the time I get back."

Cuddy rolled her eyes, just glad that he was ok.

"And leave the plasma in there, too."

"How…how did you…" Wilson started to ask.

"I can hear it," he replied smirking.

"How'd you know it wasn't yours?"

"I threw my ball at it last week and broke the knob; hasn't played sound since."

"And the plasma's safe in here, why?"

"It's my baby! I wouldn't throw anything at it!" he said, acting appalled at the thought. "Gotta book. Oh, and Jimmy, stay out of my second drawer!" Before Wilson could reply or make any jokes on House's behalf, the line went dead.

Cuddy looked at Wilson. "What's in his second drawer?"

Wilson snickered. "His porn."

She rolled her eyes. "Why can't he keep it on the web like a normal person?"

"He's hardly normal. Besides, I asked him that once and all he told me was that 'Normal's Overrated'."

"Well, we better let everyone know they're ok."

"You call their parents," she told them. Nodding, Wilson picked up his cell and called Blythe to let her and John know that their son was still alive. Cuddy picked up landline and announced over the PA system the status update of their colleagues, before hanging up to call Cameron's parents.

They both just hoped that this new update wouldn't be the last.

* * *

House slammed the phone down and headed to the door before locking it and slamming it shut. He spotted a few random people in the hallway before he spotted the Pastor.

"Hey, Rev!" he shouted, grabbing the attention of everyone, including the leader of the congregation he was limping towards.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron," he replied with a smile.

House squinted. "I'm not, but with that sense of sincere caring and overly-compassionate naivety, you could be."

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused.

"Never mind; don't apologize. Listen, my comrade and I need a lift to Baton Rouge. Is there a way we could find a ride there?"

"Well, sure! We've got a friend who runs errands for us."

"Our bus leaves at 12:45," he informed him.

He shook his head. "I'll talk to him and see if he can't give you folks a lift." Patting House on the shoulder, he headed off in the opposite direction.

"Thanks," House mumbled, off in search of Cameron.

He found her not far from where he stood, surrounded by Lupus and a few children from some of the families who sought shelter there too. The kids were all grinning widely and petting the dog on the head, which he was thoroughly enjoying. Cameron sat behind them; smiling softly of the fact that one creature could bring so much comfort to these kids in a time of nothing but disaster and destruction.

Happening to take a glance up, she was startled slightly by the studious glare coming from across the room. Instead of making her uncomfortable, as it used to, she found that the joy around her outweighed the doubt, making her smile widen as she stared back at him. Within seconds, he had crossed the room and now stood before her, staring intently at the children as they scurried away.

"What, you scared away the pastor and now you're moving onto little children?"

"I hate to repeat myself, so I shake it up every so often," he deadpanned.

She stroked Lupus's head. "So, what's the verdict?"

He tapped his cane against the ground. "We're busting out of this joint."

Her hand stopped traveling and she looked up at him in surprise. "What? Where are we going?"

"Home," he casually shrugged.

"Seriously?" she asked, eagerness creeping into her voice.

"No. I thought at this point in time that nothing could boost the morale more than a really bad joke. Yes, I'm serious! Grab your gear and let's get going."

Cameron remained rooted to her spot, trying to determine if he was actually serious.

House noticed she'd yet to budge an inch. "Are you waiting for the engraved invitation? Get moving or I'll leave without you!"

Needing no further persuasion, Cameron rushed to gather up their things.

"Meet me out front in five," he said, casually limping back down the hall.

* * *

More to come! Please review! Again, I apologize SEVERELY for the wait!


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